


to promise the world

by offbeatheart (fleetingconstant)



Category: D.O - Fandom, EXO, Jongin - Fandom, Kadi - Fandom, KaiSoo - Fandom, Kyungsoo - Fandom
Genre: Broken Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Kim Jongin | Kai, Gen, KaiSoo - Freeform, M/M, Multi, nohappyendingsfest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 19:57:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9673790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleetingconstant/pseuds/offbeatheart
Summary: a story about getting lost, falling in love, and hopping inside taxi cabs.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for the No Happy Endings Fest: Round 1 (2016).
> 
> What started as an idea, now turned into a story of love, loss, and taxi cabs in between.
> 
> made a few changes to it (better phrasings and just better grammar lmao)
> 
> You can find the playlists here: [to promise the world](https://play.spotify.com/user/topromisetheworld/playlist/3GgcmVNwiKVjvHAksOZWYW?play=true&utm_source=open.spotify.com&utm_medium=open) / [tu me manques (b-side)](https://open.spotify.com/user/smdbestrada/playlist/30R9Sm2Cqu2n5v0Ia9F1Ih)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

P A R I S , F R A N C E

 

✈︎

 

Kyungsoo does not see this coming.

As soon as the clouds shroud in the sky and the rain starts to pour, it becomes Kyungsoo’s signal to run for cover, using his hands as a makeshift shield to keep him from getting wet. Being in the worst of circumstances, this, of course, does not help.

It had only been an hour ago since Kyungsoo stood in front of the Eiffel Tower, bidding it goodbye. The famous monument he had once seen in photos and in films seemed too good to be true, but when the storm decides to take over the clear skies and invades the city of Paris, it only proves things otherwise.

Kyungsoo learns this the hard way, under the roof of a restaurant he can’t pronounce with soaked clothes and a very wet backpack. He has approximately two hours to spare before he flies back to Seoul, and another five minutes to think about how to get to the airport in time.

At this point, Kyungsoo thinks the best decision is to hail a cab, only this would bring even more problems because (1) Even if he could run in the rain to find a taxi stand, he’s about thirty meters away from the closest one, (2) He could try calling for a nearby taxi stand, but doesn’t have the slightest idea of where he is right now, and (3) He can’t speak french.

The third problem is understandable. The first two, admittedly, are a result due to lack of preparation and plain stupidity.

The rain continues to fall hard and heavy, and the chances of a cab stopping for Kyungsoo under this drastic weather become zero to none. There are no cabs driving around the area. He doesn’t even see people running in the rain without an umbrella over their heads. If Kyungsoo leaves his current position right now, he just might be one of the first.

The sky darkens and time continues to move, but Kyungsoo refuses to stay in one place. He waits for the rain to lessen and prepares to leave the restaurant.

He charges into the rain as he pulls the hood of his jacket over his head, thinking why hadn’t he thought of this sooner.

He runs mindlessly down the streets—taking left and right turns down sidewalks—but he still has no clue as to where he is. He tries to retrace his steps from when he was last in front of the Eiffel Tower and along _Avenue Gustave Eiffel_. His mind betrays him when he recalls nothing after that except travelling on foot with no destination. He could use his phone and search for a map, but he didn’t want to risk getting it wet and losing a phone in the process. He’s tried asking locals about where he is, but they don’t seem to understand Korean all too well and walk past him instead.

He could think of several other ways. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and Kyungsoo was bordering the line between desperate and hopeless.

Kyungsoo’s mind yells at him in panic, asking a question that’s been at the back of his head as to why he even thought of travelling six thousand miles away from Seoul.

He shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders. Panicking wasn’t going to help solve anything at this moment.

Kyungsoo stands under the rain doing absolutely nothing. What he does, however, is sits things through on the edge of a sidewalk. Who knows, maybe a cab will just magically appear in front of him.

Whether it was coincidence or fate, a cab passes in front of him.

He doesn’t complain about the cab almost running his feet over and only missing by an inch. The moment he sees the window of opportunity, he seizes it.

Kyungsoo stands on his feet and waves frantically as the cab drives away from him. He runs with his heart beating fast in his chest and the adrenaline rush taking over his body when he chases it to the middle of the street.

There are only a number of people who notice Kyungsoo, but he couldn't care less. The most important thing to him right now is making it to the airport in time for his flight. _So is his life_ , except Kyungsoo doesn’t think about that when he catches up to the side of the cab, breaking into a sprint and lunging forward. The vehicle comes to a complete stop, meters away from a possible accident.

He’s sure he heard someone scream having witnessed the scene, but as soon as the cab had stopped in front of him, there wasn’t a lot of time he could waste.

Kyungsoo quickly steps inside the cab without any more thought. The leather seat feels comfortable when he leans his back against it, a loud sigh escaping his lips as he closes his eyes. He tries to drown out all other noise, especially the taxi man yelling—perhaps cursing him to hell—to breathe in his temporary peace.

Until another voice caves in.

“You do realize that the red light on top of the cab means it’s taken, don’t you?”

Kyungsoo turns to the voice, the one next to him inside the taxi. He can’t make out the man’s face inside the cab, but the faint light from the sky is enough for him to register the badges on his uniform and the cap resting on top of his lap.

The taxi stays still in the middle of the road, raindrops pattering against the car windows. Kyungsoo doesn’t move.

“Are you going to ask me to leave?” he asks.

“That depends,” the man says. “Where are you heading to?”

“The airport.”

“Which one?” he inquires.

“ _Charles de Gaulle_ ,” Kyungsoo answers.

There’s a brief moment of silence before the taxi man speaks again.

_“Ou voulez-vous aller maintenant?”_

He doesn’t understand what he’s asking, but he waits nervously for the other man’s reply. The man is unfazed as he looks back at him, but he doesn’t miss the way he stares questioningly at him and his drenched clothes.

 _“L'aéroport charles de gaulle, s'il vous plaît,”_ he says, eyes unwavering from his.

The taxi man looks over his shoulder—to Kyungsoo and to the man next to him—before stepping on the gas pedal. He drives.

Kyungsoo feels his body give away from exhaustion, but he can’t help but smile even in his tired state. Instantly, he laughs. He laughs because he was unprepared, and only he can have such terrible luck. He glances at the man beside him and mutters a soft _thank you_.

He doesn’t stay awake long enough to hear the man’s response, and before he knows it, the world disappears in front of him.

 

 

S E O U L , S O U T H K O R E A

 

✈︎

 

“Are you sure you don’t want to join me?”

They are settled on chairs outside Kyungsoo’s balcony when the cool night air brushes over their skin, beer cans even cooler in their hands from which Baekhyun had pulled out from his plastic bag.

It doesn’t happen often, but Kyungsoo’s neighbour would knock on his apartment door in the evening to have a drink or two under the stars (Kyungsoo happened to have a really good view of them from his unit).

Kyungsoo had just moved in from his foster home the first time it happened. It was both intruding and annoying, but it was a tiny apartment and Baekhyun’s presence was too loud for the silence. It took a great deal of patience for Kyungsoo to come around, and eventually, he didn’t seem to mind—or more like he tolerated it.

Tonight is not any different. Kyungsoo had finished preparing for tomorrow’s Jeju trip when Baekhyun knocked on his door, except tonight not only does treat him with a beer, he also asks to meet up with him at Jeju and camp out together.

Kyungsoo takes a sip of his drink before asking, “Is there a reason why I should?”

“There are two, actually,” Baekhyun says before enumerating, “First is you being my friend.”

The taste is bitter on Kyungsoo’s tongue, but that’s not why he frowns.

“Don’t you have other friends going with you?’ he bemuses.

“Just a few, plus my boyfriend who’ll be staying overnight on pilot duty. There’s always room for one more, which is why I’m asking you to join us. As a matter of fact, I actually think you’d get along great with them.”

“I’m not so sure about that. It doesn’t look like we’re getting along right now,” Kyungsoo teases.

There’s nothing to say about Baekhyun calling him his ‘friend’, but they weren’t exactly unfamiliar to each other either. They lived in the same building—not to mention Baekhyun living right below his apartment unit. Kyungsoo likes to think he’s the closest thing to an extrovert life. He’s not so bad, but maybe it’s because Kyungsoo had no one else. They shared similar thoughts about most things, and he was a fairly logical person to talk to. If trust was a main factor to friendship, then maybe they were friends after all.

“The second reason might help you change your mind,” Baekhyun says.

“Which is?”

“You’re alone.”

Kyungsoo laughs. That doesn’t help at all.

“All the more reason why I shouldn’t join you,” Kyungsoo tells him. “I’m _always_ alone.”

“And how’d that go again? Do you want to tell me again how that worked out for you in Paris?”

Baekhyun knew most stories about his recent trip: from how he lost his way in the middle of a storm, all the way down to reaching the airport in half-dry clothes and racing to the terminal fifteen minutes before his flight. The more Kyungsoo thought about it, the more he thinks his circumstances had been far more better than not arriving at all. He would have missed his flight if it weren’t for that lucky cab ride and the stranger he shared it with.

Kyungsoo looks over to the side to spot a yellow umbrella leaning at the wall of his balcony.

“I did have help, you know.”

Out of all the things he mentioned to Baekhyun, he’d left out one important detail. It was when he woke up to the taxi man’s relentless screaming did he realize that the stranger had ran off. He didn’t know the stranger’s name. He couldn’t even remember his face. The only memory of him was the yellow umbrella he’d left with him inside the cab, a note lazily stuck to it in clear handwriting:

_I’m gonna need the umbrella and ask you to pay me back someday.  
For now, don’t be late._

“I know that,” Baekhyun says, downing his can of beer and swallowing before he continues to speak. “I just think that you should stop running away from it. We all need a little help sometimes, Kyungsoo.”

Kyungsoo disagrees, but doesn’t mention it. He knows he can make it on his own, and he will continue to do so.

Words are left unsaid as they continue to stare into the flurry of stars lighting up the cold Seoul night.

 

S E O G W I P O , J E J U

 

✈︎

 

Kyungsoo emerges from the airport terminal minutes after landing and swiftly passing immigration. He exits the gate, tugging both straps of his backpack with his hands and hugging them tightly to his chest as he makes his way over to a taxi stand he spots at the corner. He’s the first in line but doesn’t see a single taxi parked, so instead of leaving, he stays in his place and uses this time to bring out a map and see which places to visit.

Just as he reads a tourist guide at the bottom of the map, another man approaches the line and stands next to him.

Kyungsoo’s head shoots up on instinct, and turns to see a tall brunet dressed in a pilot’s uniform. He doesn’t know him, but he wonders why the pilot is suddenly staring at him with a deliberate smile present on his face. He thinks nothing of it at first, quietly turning back to his map. Seconds pass when the man’s stare continues to pierce through him from peripheral view, and it makes him feel uncomfortable.

Kyungsoo lifts his head once more, looking back at him.

“Can I… help you with something?” Kyungsoo asks, conscious from the attention he’s getting. “Is there something on my face?”

The pilot chuckles, but the accusatory look on his face entails something more. It almost seems as if he recognises him and had stolen something from him that he needed back.

“No,” he answers, “I just couldn't help but notice how you look more dried up than I remember.”

Kyungsoo’s brows furrow in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“I see that you actually did make it to your flight.”

Kyungsoo does not follow at all. The pilot gauges Kyungsoo’s face for a reaction, but finds none.

“Paris, three weeks ago?” the pilot reminds. “The storm, wet clothes? Charles de Gaulle?” 

Realization dawns on Kyungsoo, and his eyes almost grow double in size.

_Don’t be late._

“Do you really not remember?”

A curse slips out from Kyungsoo’s mouth in disbelief. It’s quick and low, but it’s enough for the pilot to hear and cock an eyebrow at him. Kyungsoo realizes this and quickly blurts out, “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that—it really didn’t mean anything, I just..” He sighs. “I am so sorry. I honestly didn’t think I’d come across you here.”

It was the truth, Kyungsoo didn’t think he’d be able to come across him again. Ever.

A wave of laughter breaks from his face and he grins. “I’m a pilot, if it helps. Let’s just say you’re most likely to see me anywhere. I thought I was setting myself up for embarrassment when you couldn’t remember.”

If there was anyone who should be embarrassed, it was Kyungsoo. He didn’t think he would be able to forget that day without wanting the ground to swallow him up.

“It’s not exactly something I would easily forget,” Kyungsoo says.

“Absolutely,” he agrees. “I mean, I don’t think I’ll be able to forget the face of a _cabnapper._ ”

“Did you just call me a _‘cabnapper’_?” Kyungsoo asks, slightly offended. “It was an honest mistake. I don’t even think that’s a word.”

“It is now,” he teases, “but hey, I was just trying to be funny, okay? I guess funny doesn’t really work for me.”

Kyungsoo is not easily amused, but he catches himself smiling at the pilot and offering his free hand out to him. “I’m Kyungsoo.”

The pilot takes glances between Kyungsoo and his hand, then nods in acknowledgement as he takes it. 

“Well, Kyungsoo, call me Jongin,” he introduces, shaking his hand and bringing it back to his side. “Uhm, I’m not the kind of person to mention these kind of things, but bumping into you suddenly makes me think about the note I left.”

Kyungsoo wishes he’d forgotten about the note, but it was only fair that he paid him back.

“Of course. Let me just..” He leaves his sentence unfinished as he shrugs the strap of his backpack off from his shoulder, then seizes it in front of him and unzips the pocket. “I don’t have your umbrella right now, but I can pay for your ride.” 

“You don't need to right now, you can do that once we get inside the cab.”

Kyungsoo stops to look at the implying smile resting on Jongin’s face.

“Oh,” Kyungsoo says, “I can't-”

“You know, the last time I saw you, you were alone,” Jongin tells him, “by any chance, are you meeting anyone today?"

Kyungsoo doesn't even need to think about his answer.

“No. I’m not meeting anyone,” he firmly says.

Jongin nods. ”Okay. And have you been to Jeju before? Do you have any plans or specific places you want to see?”

Kyungsoo glances at the map in his hand with a pout, his eyes landing back on the pilot.

"Far from it, actually,” he mutters.

“Good,” Jongin says. “I’m meeting people downtown to camp out with them until the end of my layoff.”

Kyungsoo has a feeling he’s not going to like where this is heading, but he listens. He wonders what Jongin is trying to get at when he keeps eye contact, lips forming something akin to a smile.

“You should come with me.”

“Wait, what?”

“If you're going to act spontaneous, it’d be nice to start downtown,” Jongin tells him. “Also, it’ll cost you less if you share a cab with me. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Kyungsoo wants to tell him that he didn't mind spending a little more. He could care less about the amount of cash he had in his pocket. He thinks it would be easy to avoid this as much as possible. All he needs to do is politely decline Jongin's offer and just pay for his ride.

“I don’t think I can,” Kyungsoo rejects immediately.

“Why not?” Jongin asks.

“I’m just not comfortable,” Kyungsoo tries to explain. Instead, it comes off as something unsure, as if it was something he frequently tells himself. But comfortable is familiar. He hopes it would be enough reason for Jongin to keep to himself, but the look on his face seems unconvinced.

“Comfortable, huh?” Jongin ponders, “That didn’t seem to be much of a problem at Paris when you were almost run over and coming inside my taxi.”

“Paris was different. It was—“

“ _An honest mistake_ , I get it.”

When they see a taxi soon approaching their direction, Kyungsoo suddenly feels cornered.

“I don’t want to force you into anything,” Jongin tells him, “but sometimes, you’ll find the most beautiful places outside of being comfortable.”

Kyungsoo casts Jongin an apologetic smile.

“I can still pay for your fare,” Kyungsoo offers, but before he can pull his wallet out of his backpack, Jongin already dismisses him with a wave.

“I change my mind.” Jongin says, “You don’t need to pay me anymore.”

When Kyungsoo looks up, Jongin is meters apart from him, glancing at the taxi approaching them before his eyes fall back on him. It’s surprising, how he’s never seen anyone gaze at him with such determination in their eyes.

“But if I open the door, will you come in?”

Kyungsoo tenses. Jongin stands meters away in front of him, holding a gaze that’s almost mistaken as something similar to longing.

"We’re not strangers, Kyungsoo,” Jongin tells him, "We don't need to be."

Words are caught in Kyungsoo’s throat as the anxiety kicks in just like every other time people try to help him. As soon as he thinks of doing something unconventional, the fear of change consumes him.

He doesn’t understand why someone he’s encountered only twice in his life had even the slightest bit of concern about the choices he makes. He didn’t need anyone to decide about what he was going to do with his life when he’d done it all on his own for twenty four years.

Kyungsoo stands frozen in his place saying nothing else. Seconds pass, and Jongin takes this as a sign to give up. He shrugs his shoulders, shaking his head as a sigh escapes his lips. Kyungsoo doesn’t miss the mild disappointment in Jongin’s eyes when he sends him a rueful grin.

Kyungsoo remembers Paris and the note Jongin had left him along with his yellow umbrella. He remembers Baekhyun in his balcony saying _we all need a little more help sometimes_.

The taxi comes to a full stop in front of them, and Kyungsoo watches as Jongin steps back from him.

But as soon as the pilot turns away, he thinks maybe it wouldn’t hurt to know why.

It takes a courageous amount of seconds before Kyungsoo steps out of his comfort zone, reaching for the door the same time Jongin does.

Jongin stills when Kyungsoo’s hand covers his own. He faces him slowly, regarding him with a surprised look.

“I um—” Kyungsoo has to clear his throat before continuing, “I mean, for what it’s worth, I do owe you.”

A smile grows on the pilot’s lips.

 

 

Seogwipo welcomes them in the southern part of Jeju-do. The town consists of run-down businesses and old buildings along the rocky coastline, lush parks punctuated within the city. He remembered when the taxi driver had sparked a conversation with Jongin on their way there, talking about common landmarks and famous sights. Kyungsoo had kept silent throughout the whole ride but listened enthusiastically.

They stand by the coast where boats are moored to the end of a dock, watching the cab drive away while locals and other tourists walk past them. The air smells like a combination of rocks and a bit of the ocean, the temperature being moderately warm on a late sunny afternoon.

Kyungsoo’s black cotton shirt sticks uncomfortably to his skin, but when he turns to glance at Jongin, beads of sweat trailing down the sides of his face all the way down to his neck, he doesn’t complain.

“They should be here anytime now,” Jongin tells him, tugging at the collar of his uniform several times to cool himself. “They’ve just finished visiting the botanical garden. It’ll take them a few more minutes to get here in walking distance.” 

“Okay,” Kyungsoo says. The air is quiet again, but he would rather listen to the sound of small waves hitting the ocean than say anything else. 

“Comfortable yet?” Jongin asks. “I didn’t think you’d take my offer.”

“It’s because I owed you,” Kyungsoo answers calmly.

“And I appreciate it. But it must have been hard for you to do what you did today.” Jongin glances with an apologetic smile. “You don’t seem to be easily persuaded in hanging out with people. I can’t help but wonder what really changed your mind.”

Kyungsoo wonders the same thing. Even now, he still wasn’t sure about why he had chosen to hop in the same cab with the pilot at the last minute, and for the second time.

“I guess I—”

“Hey, Captain!”

Kyungsoo can’t see the person calling from where he stood and with Jongin in front of him, but the voice almost sounds like the same person in his balcony just yesterday.

He doesn’t look when Jongin greets him back.

“Hey.”

“How’s it going? You brought someone with you?”

The voice is much closer now, and Kyungsoo has to take a sidestep to see the person looking back at him with disbelief written all over his face.

“Kyungsoo?”

Baekhyun brushes past Jongin and pulls him into a bear hug before he does anything to avoid it.

“I know we talked about Jeju last night, but you didn’t tell me you were planning to hit the south as well!” Baekhyun exclaims, pulling away from him to grip his shoulders in excitement.

“I wasn’t,” Kyungsoo grimaces. When he peers over Baekhyun’s shoulder, it’s only then that he notices a fresh face taking his place next to Jongin, the latter only staring back at him with an amused grin.

“I met him at the airport and invited him to camp out with us,” Jongin tells Baekhyun, eyes never leaving Kyungsoo’s. “He didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“We should probably get going then,” a voice suggests. The deep baritone standing next to Jongin is tall, with slightly narrow shoulders. “Sehun and Luhan found a clearing close to Seongsan. They’ve probably finished pitching the tents.”

“Huh,” Baekhyun says dumbfoundedly. He releases his hold on Kyungsoo then gives Jongin a pat on the back.

Jongin and the tall baritone walk straight ahead, leaving Kyungsoo to walk side by side with Baekhyun who waits for him. He’s already facing him when he looks up, and a knowing smirk threatens to make its way to his face.

“Change of plans?”

 

 

They make it to the campsite by sundown, skies turning into an array of pinks and blues above them. Meat is passed around and pierced through barbecue sticks once they form a circle across the fire pit. Kyungsoo watches the flames burst into embers in front of his eyes. He tries his best to blend in with the group of five, memorising names inside his head as he matches them to the faces he’d been introduced to earlier.

Baekhyun sits comfortably next to him and hands him a beer. Chanyeol—the tall baritone—takes the space next to his boyfriend, casually bringing an arm around him while chugging on his own can of Coke. It feels oddly shameful to be drinking alcohol in the company of three pilots and a flight attendant on flight duty, but they didn’t seem to care. 

There is little conversation directed to Kyungsoo, and he hopes it stays that way. He didn't want to have to explain things and talk about himself. Conversations have always been a hard limit for him. Instead, Kyungsoo listens to the excited chattering around the fire as his gaze lands shortly on the ocean beyond the coastline.

Kyungsoo sees Jongin past the flames. He’s changed into more casual clothes—a plain white shirt paired with dark blue jeans and sneakers. He’s engrossed in talks with two of the new faces he’d met, Sehun and Luhan, laughing at something funny they’ve said. Kyungsoo can’t hear them, but a small smile threatens to form in the side of his mouth.

It’s these moments that Kyungsoo enjoys seeing the most—moments where contagious laughter spring about somewhere in a lovely town—wondering when he would be able to create some of his own.

“He’s a charmer, isn’t he?”

He’s pulled out from his reverie and led to stare at the person beside him. Baekhyun looks pointedly towards the pilot’s direction before facing him, a smug smile crossed on his face. “Jongin. He wouldn’t have brought you here if he didn’t know you. What happened to me being your only friend?”

Kyungsoo watches the way Jongin’s eyes crinkle and turn into thin curved lines, almost resembling tiny crescents.

“We’ve only just met,” Kyungsoo reiterates. “He doesn’t _know_ me.”

Kyungsoo thinks they were barely even acquaintances — just two people stumbling into coincidences.

“Not to me,” Baekhyun counters. “Not with how he looks at you.”

Kyungsoo’s face changes, his eyebrows raised in confusion.

“What do you mean?” Kyungsoo asks.

Baekhyun responds with a quick lift of his shoulders. “I don’t know how to explain it, but the way he looks at you is strange, seems like he’s been waiting for you as if you were a sign from somewhere in the sky. I haven’t seen him this way since—”

He stops talking, as if he’s choked on water. Kyungsoo senses there’s more to what he is telling him, but decides not to push things further. Kyungsoo thinks about the way Jongin had looked at him outside the Jeju airport—familiar and hopeful. There had been a flash of something else in his eyes, something he couldn’t comprehend.

He can still see Jongin through the flames, doubling over in laughter while Sehun and Luhan laugh along with him.

It doesn’t take long when Jongin’s eyes find its way past the flames to meet his. There’s something about the way the fire casts a marigold glow to his face that piques Kyungsoo’s curiosity.

When the pilot regards him with a smile —soft and genuine—he doesn’t find it all that difficult to return.

 

 

Kyungsoo stares into pitch black, lying awake as sleep evades him completely. The other campers have fallen asleep in their own tents while he occupied a spare, the quiet of the night keeping him company. Wind breezes through and leaves goosebumps upon his skin as he shifts in his position, furling inside the sleeping bag and closing his eyes.

Seconds drag into minutes; minutes feel like hours. The darkness within the confines of the tent almost suffocate him, and right now he wants nothing else but for the sun to soon take over.

Kyungsoo decides to head out. He crawls out from the cot, getting up to slip into his windbreaker before he unzips the tent.

As soon as he steps outside, the cool October air kisses his face and causes a shiver to run along the length of his spine. A midnight sky greets Kyungsoo when he looks up—a dark canvas of infinite constellations. He thinks about the times he’d spent on his balcony with Baekhyun, looking at the same stars as the one shining above him right now. It’s no wonder why some people preferred to stay outside.

Kyungsoo leaves the campsite and trudges into the woods. He walks in cautious but heavy steps, his feet landing on the grass with a loud crunch. It’s dark, but he keeps the flashlight switched on in his phone, waving it around as it illuminates the forest.

Minutes pass as Kyungsoo wanders aimlessly through the darkness and past the trees, leaves swaying to the wind’s hums. He doesn’t know how far he’s gone from the campsite, but when his legs start to ache, he knows he’s been away longer than he intended.

He walks farther into the woods in deep contemplation. The amount of thoughts spiralling in his head is unnerving, so coming into the forest seemed like an unconstrained way to run away from it. It reaches a point when the wind suddenly stops and the air turns stale, but the hairs on the back of his neck rise when he thinks he hears more footsteps than his own, unwelcome thoughts of being followed by someone coming to mind.

“Kyungsoo?”

The voice is closer than he expects, but Kyungsoo is quick to turn around. Shock easily comes to him in quick rhythmic heartbeats. Startled, he yelps and throws his arms up as his phone flies out from his grasp.

Kyungsoo reaches for the gadget just as another hand snatches it. He takes the person’s hand, pointing the light of his phone towards his face to meet a pair of eyes looking back at him.

Jongin’s hand feels soft and warm in his own as he asks, “What are you doing here at three in the morning?”

The beating his heart make normalizes, and Kyungsoo releases Jongin’s hand before taking his phone back. It’s only then that he realizes that Jongin had also kept a flashlight in his other hand, flashing it right in front of Kyungsoo’s face before switching it off and bringing his hand down. He wants to ask Jongin the same thing, knowing he’d made it deep into the forest and caught him, but if Jongin hadn’t arrived, he’d be going in circles and will have to wait until the sky brightens.

“I was just about to head back,” Kyungsoo tells him.

“Right,” Jongin muses with a grin. “I didn’t think I would run into anyone in here. It’d be hard to return to the campsite at this time, but I guess what some people say is true—maybe you need to get lost sometimes so you can be found.” Kyungsoo wonders if he means something more by what he said, but he knew that wasn’t the case for him.

“And now you’re here for some fresh air, I assume?” Kyungsoo comments.

“You could say that,” Jongin quips. He juts his chin towards the direction past Kyungsoo’s shoulders. “I remembered seeing a road over there. We passed it before making it to the campsite. There’s also an olle trail that leads to Sunrise Peak, right next to the coastline. I wanted to make sure I come back for it, since this might be the only time I have before I leave for duty.”

A brief silence hangs loosely in the air as Kyungsoo stands awkwardly in front of Jongin. He can’t see much of Jongin’s face with the limited light, but Kyungsoo almost mistakes the way his eyes seem to stare into his, as if he was waiting for him to do something.

Instead, Kyungsoo prepares to leave before the silence could drag on any longer.

“Well then,” he drawls, “I guess I’ll just see you later.”

The light leaves Jongin’s face as Kyungsoo walks slowly past him, towards the other direction. He’s steps away when he hears the pilot speak.

“There’s about two more hours until the sun comes up, and it’s an hour long hike from the trail. It might take longer depending on our speed, but I think we’ll have enough time.”

Kyungsoo turns to meet expectant eyes in the darkness, still waiting. He wonders how it could be so easy for him to show parts of himself to the world—honest thoughts and pleasant smiles—when parts such as his own were difficult to give to anyone else.

He hasn’t found what he was looking for, but when the light in his hand casts a soft glow to his face, he finds that the sun is closer than it seems.

 

 

Chasing the sun turns out to be much harder than he thought.

“You’ve got to be kidding me right now.”

Kyungsoo bends down to grasp his knees, breathing hard as Jongin informs him about their hike reaching an hour and a half. He remembers struggling through the first sixty minutes, taking breaks in between so he could try and catch his breath while Jongin searched for trail markers. It was still dark when they started the trail, but the night sky had faded little by little on the way, with hues of blue and purple peeking slowly from the horizon as they passed views of the sea and tiny villages.

“I think we’re close,” Jongin says as he rests a hand on his shoulder, weighing him down a bit. “The marker read another kilometer.”

“You just said this five minutes ago,” Kyungsoo states, still breathless. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“Just a bit more, Kyungsoo,” he assures him. “We can’t miss out on something like this. Not now. Come on, trust me a little.”

“I think I’ve done enough trusting for today,” Kyungsoo groans.

“Well, you can definitely trust me when I say I won’t hop inside your cab,” Jongin teases, and Kyungsoo manages to look up and glare at him.

Jongin flashes him an innocent smile and pats him on the back, saying, “It’s just a few more steps.”

That was a lie.

Sweat drips down Kyungsoo’s temples as they climb up the seemingly endless flight of wooden stairs. He reaches a point when he almost feels like puking and his legs are about to give out below him, but Jongin is determined to reach the top and he’s lost all of his strength to complain. They keep climbing.

Kyungsoo takes one more step before letting his knees drop to the ground, hands pressed down on the cemented surface. He exhales harshly and lets out a loud sigh.

“I can’t do this.”

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin calls but he waves him off.

“You go ahead,” he tells him, “I’ll just wait here.”

“But we made it.”

He looks up at Jongin, a proud smile drawn on his lips. “What?”

“We made it, Kyungsoo.”

He lifts himself off from the ground and looks straight ahead.

The sight is absolutely breathtaking. There were no signs of other tourists or locals around, so they stand together perched on the edge where they can see the concave crater surrounded in bodies of water, absorbing as much of the picturesque scenery as possible before the sun rises.

It begins as a small rosy glow beneath the deep blue sea, soon turning into streams of light that paint the sky with a golden haze. As the sun ascends, Kyungsoo is filled with an overwhelming sense of astonishment.

There is something much more special about the sunrise in a beautiful setting. Kyungsoo thinks it must be the promise of a new day with endless possibilities.

“Hey.”

Kyungsoo realizes that Jongin had been silent all along. He turns to him, already staring back at him with another one of his warm smiles. “Thanks,” Jongin says.

“For what?”

“For giving this moment a chance,” Jongin says simply. “And for sharing this moment with me.”

The sun creates the illusion of a halo around Jongin, and it is only then—with Jongin and the sunrise—does Kyungsoo find what he’s been looking for. He smiles.

_A moment._

 

T O K Y O , J A P A N

 

✈︎

 

The doors of the train open with impatient passengers surging forward and moving in a rush to each of their destinations. Kyungsoo steps down just as the door closes and the train leaves, making his own way out of the station and taking the proper exit.

Kyungsoo had become quite better at planning and a little more equipped with research. A backpack had sufficed to carry everything he needed for another overnight stay, and soon enough he found himself starting his day in the streets of Yokohama, then travelling next to Shibuya in the afternoon.

The weather was perfect outside, and Kyungsoo can already see Hachiko standing meters away as he heads toward it. It took three days for him to prepare this trip, and now he stands in front of the statue, smiling sadly as he remembers the film that led him to this moment, with memories of Hachiko still playing like a reel in his head—scenes of the Akita standing in front of the train station every day, waiting for his owner to come back.

A wretched feeling resonates in Kyungsoo—the kind of feeling that brings questions to mind as to why things happened the way they did and why things didn’t happen the way they wanted it to. Hachiko waited nine years for an answer, but Kyungsoo had stopped searching for his own ever since, thinking maybe there was no other way to explain things other than this phenomenon called life and the many unprecedented events that come along with it.

One of them is a voice that suddenly asks, “Have you ever waited for something that you know might never happen again?”

Kyungsoo turns to Jongin standing a few feet behind him, hands fitted inside the pockets of his coat and looking over Hachiko’s statue with indecipherable eyes. An encounter with Jongin in a foreign place no longer surprises him, but it still leaves him wondering exactly why they were bound to meet as if their gravity were pulling them towards each other.

The last time he’d seen the pilot was a week ago in Seogwipo. After the sunrise, Jongin took him back to the campsite then left for his flight duty, and since then he couldn’t deny that he didn’t think about him and their encounters and how one way or another, they’d created even the littlest impact in his life.

“Have you?” is what Kyungsoo asks. Thinking before speaking wasn’t his strongest feat—he realizes this just as Jongin’s face changes. Maybe this isn’t about the nine years of Hachiko’s life anymore, and Kyungsoo wishes he hadn’t returned the question at all.

Before he could even apologize, Jongin only offers a small wilted smile.

“Yes,” Jongin says quietly, “Yes, I have.”

 

 

Kyungsoo and Jongin dine inside an intimate ramen shop nearby, its walls decorated in light wooden panels and cursive katana writings. Three tables are occupied with locals chatting away in lively conversations while a waiter serves their ramen bowls and a plate of _aji tamago_. The waiter takes a bow and walks away from them, and the silence becomes palpable between them.

He watches Jongin move first—lifting his chopsticks to take an egg off the plate and bringing it between his teeth, then swallowing before he speaks.

“You seem to travel a lot these days.” Jongin tells him.

Kyungsoo follows suit and slices his own soft boiled egg with a spoon, scooping half of it into his mouth then answering back.

“Just trying to get to as many cities as possible.” Kyungsoo answers nonchalantly.

Jongin quietly observes the way Kyungsoo takes another spoonful of the egg and washes it down with a bottle of sapporo beer. He smiles.

“And how many cities have you been to so far?” Jongin asks.

“Not a lot,” He answers truthfully. “Maybe not enough.”

“You say that as if you’re planning to travel the world.”

Kyungsoo looks up at Jongin with unabashed eyes.

“Maybe I am.”

“Yeah?” Jongin asks, taking another bite before speaking, “Anyone can say that, but at what cost?”

“At any cost.”

Jongin pauses. He tilts his head to the side, looking into his eyes with intrigue.

“You can’t be serious,” Jongin says. “I already knew you traveled on a whim when I first met you, but it’s not as grand as you think when you don’t know where you’re going.”

“I honestly can’t tell if you’re being serious when you make a living out of it,” Kyungsoo counters, “You might not be able to understand, but it’s just something I need to do.”

“Well, I am serious.”

“Then so am I.”

They make room for another period of silence. The beer leaves a bitter taste on Kyungsoo’s tongue when he takes a long sip, placing the bottle down just as Jongin’s voice invades the quiet.

“You’re right. I guess I don’t understand.”

Kyungsoo shrugs. “Don’t worry about it, it’s not a big deal.”

“I can try to understand,” Jongin tells him. “It’d be interesting to know what it would feel like to live in your shoes.”

“I don’t think you’d want that.” He dismisses.

“Why not?” Jongin asks, “ _It’s not a big deal,_ just like you said.”

“That’s precisely why we shouldn’t talk about it.”

Jongin stares, looking at him as if he knows him.

“That’s not how I see things. The way I see it, there’s a reason why you’re running off to places as far as Paris.”

Kyungsoo stops eating and places his chopsticks down on the table, focusing on Jongin and the way he’s looking at him searching for answers he didn’t want him to find. Kyungsoo was tired and hungry, and sane enough to snap at Jongin.

“Perhaps there is. But, tell me, _Captain_ ,” Kyungsoo strains the word, then speaks somewhat irritably, “What would you have done if your dead parents kept a shitload of money under your name? Would you have quit your job and moved to a bigger city? Would you have flown across the country the same way I did?”

The weight of Kyungsoo’s words catches Jongin off guard, refraining him from saying anything else.

The abrupt silence makes Kyungsoo uncomfortable. He takes a deep breath and brushes his fingers through his hair in mild frustration, then he distracts himself by taking his chopsticks once again and mixing the noodles on his ramen. Jongin leaves his food untouched.

“Was it a plane crash?” He asks carefully.

Kyungsoo continues to stir the noodles on his bowl, avoiding his eyes.

“Car accident.”

“I see.”

Kyungsoo knows he’s said too much, at least more than what he’s shared with anyone else, let alone Baekhyun. He didn’t want to see the pity in people’s eyes, because that’s not what he needs.

“What were they like?” Jongin asks inquisitively.

“I wouldn’t know,” Kyungsoo tells him, “I didn’t know them.”

When Kyungsoo dares to look up and into Jongin’s eyes, sympathy is the last thing he sees. The pilot doesn’t look away from him, eyes staying completely trained on his as if they were staring deep into pieces of him he intended to keep hidden.

But for the first time in his life, Kyungsoo doesn’t stop talking.

“I lived in a small house at Ilsan with Miyoung, my foster mother, and her son, Sungsoo. Things were peaceful back then. She never spoke to me about my real parents, and I never brought it up. Things seemed easier that way.”

Jongin listens intently to Kyungsoo just as he continues speaking.

“I found out about their death the same time Miyoung had. She cried nonstop through the other end of the line when I saw her in the kitchen. I didn’t know who she was speaking to, but it must have been someone important. It didn’t matter to me then, because I realized that not only did I have to grieve for my father and my mother, but she would also have to grieve for her brother and someone that had been a part of her family.”

“It was three days later when she told me about the money. It turned out they had been sending money every year to a bank account under my name. They’ve been putting my name on most of their savings stated in my father’s will. Could you imagine that all this time I was left to think that someone else had paid for my school tuition and paid for the food on my plate? Miyoung had kept all those secrets from me, but I couldn’t be angry at her. She was lovely, treated me kindly, and it was useless to talk about it at this point. But as soon as I found out, I did the only thing I thought I could do—I left.”

“I thought about my parents, and whether or not I should blame them for the lie I’ve been trapped inside. I knew nothing about them, but I always thought it was enough for me to know that they threw me away, as if I was some piece of trash they just couldn’t deal with. Not only that, they even tried to make up for it with gold.”

A single tear falls to his cheek, and when Kyungsoo suddenly realizes this with Jongin watching him, he quickly uses the back of his hand to wipe it away and break contact with the other’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Kyungsoo laughs bitterly, accompanied with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, “It’s pretty pathetic, isn’t it? How surviving in this world and depending on their money is the only thing that will remind me of them? It’s not like they gave me anything else.”

Jongin’s stare is unreadable at this point.

“Do you want me to tell you what I think?”

Kyungsoo sniffs, glancing quickly at him as he wrinkles his nose. “Go ahead.”

“Okay,” Jongin leans forward across the table, seeking Kyungsoo’s eyes to catch his attention. “I think…that you’re not giving you and your parents enough credit.”

Kyungsoo crosses his arms, regarding him with a cautious look.

“Your parents might not have been the best, in fact, they might not have been anything to you at all, but maybe they’ve given you something much more valuable than you realize.”

Kyungsoo laughs haughtily, less than convinced. “Which is?”

He tries to hide the shock that strikes through him when Jongin suddenly reaches for his hand, bringing it to his.

“Life,” Jongin says simply, “So, rather than surviving, wouldn’t you say that you’re living?”

Their ramen bowls have turned forgotten and cold, but the warmth in Jongin’s hand remains.

 

 

They pass the time and stand before the _Scramble Crossing_. Every few minutes when the lights turn green, the intersection is filled with noises of pedestrians swarming every corner while buildings burst with neon advertisements. Kyungsoo continues to watch locals weave and dodge through the busy road, thinking he would have to take the train back to Yokohoma again.

“Are you heading that way?” Jongin asks, pointing across the intersection and to the train station where Hachiko stays.

“Yeah.” Kyungsoo faces him. “I should probably leave now before it closes.”

He answers with a nod. “Have you thought about where you would be off to next?”

Kyungsoo tugs on both of his backpack straps, staring at the neon lights above them. “Not yet, but I guess that’s the plan. Somewhere far? New? Who knows where I’ll be going?”

Strangely enough, Kyungsoo feels lighter somehow, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulder. The lights are blinding but pleasant, and Jongin is looking at him with a smile that’s familiar and pure.

“Good,” Jongin tells him. “That means I can look forward to doing this again next time.”

He grins before bidding Jongin goodbye with a playful bow and a laugh escaping the pilot. As soon as they separate and Kyungsoo crosses the intersection, a tinge feeling of excitement rushes through him, already thinking about the next time he and the pilot would cross paths.

 

 

S E O U L , S O U T H K O R E A

 

✈︎

 

The next time Baekhyun visits Kyungsoo to gaze at stars outside his balcony, Kyungsoo doesn’t expect him to bring up a topic such as the pilot’s whereabouts.

“So, Jongin stopped by the other day to drop off some stuff I lent to him,” Baekhyun tells him. 

“Oh?” Kyungsoo asks, glancing casually at the other while he drinks from his beer bottle.

“Uh-huh,” Baekhyun quips. “He mentioned that you guys met and hung out a week ago at Tokyo.”

“It was just one dinner,” Kyungsoo confirms, then quickly notices his neighbour’s probing eyes before asking, “Why are you looking at me like that? You know that wasn’t the first time that I bumped into him.”

Baekhyun lets out a bitter laugh before mocking him. “Yeah, I should know, except you forgot to mention that it was his taxi you took at Paris!”

It takes a while before Kyungsoo responds, stilling at the memory of their first encounter.

“He told you that?”

“Only because you didn’t,” Baekhyun counters.

“But I didn’t know who he was at that time,” Kyungsoo reasons out. “I barely even recognised his face the second time I met him at Jeju.”

“Were you even planning on saying anything as soon as you realized it was him?”

“Why would I?” Kyungsoo asks, “I didn’t think it would matter.”

Baekhyun shakes his head. “Not to you, it didn’t. But, apparently, it matters to other people.”

Kyungsoo wants to ask him what he means by that, but it doesn’t take long before Baekhyun pulls something out from his button-up shirt—a rectangular piece of paper tucked unruly on his breast pocket. He flattens the paper in his hands before handing it to Kyungsoo and smiling apologetically at how he’d almost ruined it.

“It was pretty late when he came to my unit. I’m guessing he would have given it directly to you if he had more time, but he had a flight to catch. That boy never stays in the same place.”

Kyungsoo takes unsure glances between Baekhyun and the paper he is holding out to him and wonders if he was mistaken for someone else, taking it only when the other returns an expectant gaze and a shrug.

He looks at the postcard in his hands. The photo catches his eye in an instant, drawing him in with a grid of beautiful and unfamiliar landscapes. In the middle of the photo grid is a ribbon with a name printed in bold and cursive six letters.

“Glasgow, huh?” Baekhyun asks, “Why would he give you a postcard from Glasgow? You’ve never even been there before.”

At the back of the postcard is a list of places scribbled in bullet points. Below them are a date and time written as flight details along with a message—three words, the same words he’d used the first time they’d met:

_Don’t be late._

“You’re right,” Kyungsoo agrees. “But I think that’s why he gave it to me.”

Kyungsoo meets Baekhyun’s questionable look and concludes, “This is where he’s leading me.”

His eyes still linger on the card when Baekhyun peeks next to him, reading the same message.

“Why would he do that?” Baekhyun asks, “It doesn’t really make sense that he would do something like this.”

Kyungsoo wants to agree with Baekhyun, but he stays tight lipped with thoughts floating high like the stars in the quiet night.

“Well, are you going?”

Kyungsoo contemplates, looking at the postcard one more time before shooting it inside the back pocket of his jeans. “I don’t see why not,” Kyungsoo says. “I don’t have anything to lose, don’t I?”

“So, that’s it? You’re telling me that you’re going to Glasgow and taking Jongin’s flight just because he asked you to?” Baekhyun asks, eyes wide in surprise and disbelief. “Wow, this wasn’t what I expected at all.”

He downs his bottle before returning a question, “What did you expect then? I’m always alone anyway, you said so yourself.”

“I know what I said, but that doesn’t mean it’s not surprising to see how quickly you’ve warmed up to Jongin, just as much as he did to you.”

Baekhyun isn’t the only one that has noticed the sudden change. Even Kyungsoo knows how different he’s become and how his mindset about the world had no longer been limited to his own. As soon as Kyungsoo opened up to Jongin in Tokyo about his life, he realized he had already given him the power to break down his walls, little by little.

“Look,” Baekhyun starts, “It’s great that you and Jongin share more things than just taxi cabs. His intentions may be good, but… Maybe you shouldn’t expect anything else.”

Kyungsoo turns to face Baekhyun as concern marred the latter’s face. Kyungsoo knows Baekhyun is thinking of something malicious, but he quickly dismisses the idea.

“Okay, whatever it is that you’re thinking of right now, please stop because it’s not what you think.”

“I can’t help it,” Baekhyun reasons out, “You may not think anything about it now, but when something does happen, it will become all that you will think about. I just don’t want you to feel disappointed in the end.”

“Baekhyun,” he calls out, “I don’t.. I don’t see him in the way that you think I do, so what on earth could I possibly be disappointed about?”

Baekhyun pauses, hesitant at first.

“Jongin...he’s been through stuff.”

“So have I,” Kyungsoo defends. “What does that have to do with Glasgow?”

“Nothing,” Baekhyun mutters before shaking his head. “You know what? I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not even my business, but you and Jongin are my friends. I’ve never seen him this excited in a while, so I guess I should just thank you for that. I’ve known Jongin for a very long time, and the things that happened to him in the past really broke him.” 

They sit in silence. Despite Kyungsoo’s spontaneous escapades with Jongin, he realizes that the pilot knows things about him that most people don’t know about when in return he knows so little about him.

He thinks about what Baekhyun said, and it makes him all the more curious about Jongin.

“And I’m getting to know him,” Kyungsoo tells Baekhyun. “Maybe this is a good thing for both of us.”

Baekhyun smiles and takes his hand in comfort.

“Can I ask you for a favor?” Baekhyun asks. “Just don’t get hurt, okay?”

 

G L A S G O W , S C O T L A N D

 

✈︎

 

When Jongin is not a pilot, he happens to be a prepared traveler.

Kyungsoo pushes the trolley cart forward as its wheels turn underneath, in a hurry as he keeps in mind that he has to find him. When Kyungsoo exits the baggage claiming area, he catches him already standing by the arrival gate—face calm with a posture that poses an effortless confidence.

Despite the amount of people inside the airport, Jongin’s eyes quickly meet his own, a mix of surprise and anticipation suddenly playing in his smile and tugging his lips upward.

Whether it was because Kyungsoo was in a different country or because of the person standing a few steps away from him in an unfamiliar place, the excitement makes his heart race anyway.

“I see you got the postcard,” Jongin says when Kyungsoo makes it in front of him, watching him take his luggage out of the cart and pull it right next to him.

“I sure did,” he agrees, returning a small and shy smile while he continues to joke sarcastically. “I should warn you though, I’m not very good at spontaneity.”

The remark makes Jongin laugh a bit, his eyes shortly curving into thin crescent lines just like how he remembered them.

“I’m happy you came anyway,” Jongin answers. “There are a few places I thought we could visit that you might enjoy. We should be able to fit them all in one day to make the most out of the city.”

“I’ve got time,” Kyungsoo tells him. “I haven’t booked a return flight yet, so it doesn’t matter. I wanted to be sure I wouldn’t miss seeing what this side of the world has to offer.”

Jongin’s eyes shortly focus on something behind him, but says nothing about it. Instead, he reveals an even brighter smile.

“Well, I’m sure the world will definitely surprise you.”

Kyungsoo notices the sunrays that peek from the glass window above them, trying to compete with the light in Jongin’s smile. The lights casts a glow on his face that only does more to illuminate him, creating another wondrous kind of sunshine. He thinks for a moment that maybe it already has.

As they stand side by side and prepare to leave the airport, Jongin takes one more look at the yellow umbrella sticking out from Kyungsoo’s backpack, true to his promise.

“You can keep the umbrella, by the way,” Jongin tells Kyungsoo. “Just make sure you won’t poke someone with that thing on your back.”

 

 

On their first day in Glasgow, Kyungsoo learns that in order to define the future, you can never run away from the past.

They take a shuttle bus to the city centre and check in at a tiny hostel Jongin had booked before catching the subway that leads to the Kelvingrove Museum. As soon as they reach their destination, the day turns as busy as the locals and tourists swiftly making their way inside the momentous building to take a glimpse of the numerous art designed by the likes of Scottish colourists.

From the Kelvingrove Museum, they walk up to the West End and visit the Botanic Gardens, where tulips color the ground with the most vivid hues the same way exotic tropical plants catch their attention, showered with natural sunlight inside the Kibble Palace.

Kyungsoo wasn’t one to bring a camera and take much photos, and thinks it’s more than enough to see things with the naked eye. He watches Jongin lift his camera up to bring it to the same level as his face, quickly snapping a photo of wildflowers rooted on a garden patch.

“Beauty comes in unexpected places,” Jongin tells him. “It’s nice to be prepared and keep photographs to preserve them. Don’t we keep our memories the same way? We make sure they don’t disappear or fade, otherwise we easily forget them. Who knows when we would be able to see something as beautiful as this again?”

At one point, Kyungsoo pulls his phone out from his pocket while Jongin continues to take photos. He opens the camera app, framing Jongin’s back with the tree ferns surrounding him inside the glass house. He clicks on the shutter button, keeping his first memory in Scotland.

Soon afterwards, they grab late lunch at a little restaurant somewhere off the main street, enjoying the scent of fresh cilantro in the air and the taste of vietnamese banh mi. Once their stomachs are filled, they leave West End and make their way to George Square to pay homage to other Scottish greats, monumental statues and buildings situated around them.

The walking and running off from one place to another keep their conversations to a minimum. The city of Glasgow does the talking for the two, entertaining them with its Victorian buildings and wealth of Scottish art and culture.

“This day was pretty historic,” Kyungsoo says.

By the time they finish visiting the Glasgow Cathedral and walk along the Necropolis, the sun begins to set as they read the names carved on tombs and graves when they pass them.

“I bet we haven’t even seen half of the history created here,” Jongin comments.

He wasn’t wrong. It somehow frustrates Kyungsoo, how one can never really know everything about the history of a person or a place, no matter how much historians or theorists try to explain and prove the past. Perhaps people will only ever hear the history others constantly change.

Sometimes, Kyungsoo wishes he could erase his own history, to tear off the first few chapters of the book he was leading and wipe the slate clean, become a whole different person.

“Have you ever thought about changing your own history?” Kyungsoo suddenly asks.

Jongin has his hands in the pockets of his coat when he sneaks a glance at him, walking continuously down the hill. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” he answers nonchalantly, staring down at their shoes as they take slower steps. “I just… I just think life would be better if some of the things that happened in my life didn’t happen at all.”

“Wouldn’t that be much more worse? Wouldn’t it be difficult for you? Throwing away parts of your history would be like taking away parts of yourself.”

“Your history must be really great, then,” Kyungsoo retorts.

“You don’t have to make this a competition, Kyungsoo,” Jongin tells him. “Just because we’ve been through different histories, it doesn’t mean someone’s past is better than the other.”

“So are you saying you’ve never even thought about it? You’ve never thought about taking past events in your life—especially the bad ones—and wished there was something you could have done to change them?”

Jongin doesn’t respond right away.

They let a few minutes of silence settle between them. Kyungsoo wonders if he’s struck another chord in Jongin and if he was angry about it. Instead, he answers him.

“Sometimes,” Jongin answers. “I wouldn’t exactly say I would change the past, but if I could go back to the most important days of my life, I’d make sure to relive them all, maybe feel some things twice. I would understand as much as I can about why sometimes things become beyond our control, then make the other days count before it ends. Before the good turns into the bad.”

Kyungsoo watches Jongin’s soft smile as it slowly detaches from his face, a hint of his history still hidden in his eyes.

It’s fascinating how Kyungsoo will never know for sure, that despite anything that Jongin says, there will still be things he may never know about him: what Jongin’s first word was. What Jongin felt when he learned how to fly his first plane. What Jongin’s first kiss tasted like.

It shouldn’t really bother Kyungsoo, but there is so much history in Jongin waiting to be discovered.

“Tell me your important days, Jongin,” Kyungsoo says. “The good and the bad.”

Jongin stays quiet for another moment. He shares Kyungsoo a deep and thoughtful look, before he enumerates.

“Well, there’s the day I was born. There’s the day I graduated from pilot training three years ago. I’ve been flying international flights since then. There’s also that day when Lily—my niece—turned eight and her nose bled for the first time. I’ve never seen anyone so brave.”

Jongin was looking at him like how he’d looked at him at Tokyo in front of Hachiko’s statue, one that was full of longing and remembrance.

Kyungsoo offers a smile, but it only falters the moment Jongin opens his mouth to speak once again.

“Then there was this girl I met five years ago.” Jongin tells him. “She was quiet, but her eyes spoke to me with a million words. She didn’t smile often, but her laugh was like christmas lights dancing all around. She was contagious. Being with her was thrilling, she knew how to take my breath away with the things she did. I remember I kept telling myself that someday I was going to marry her. On the first day of one beautiful April morning, that’s exactly what I did.”

It catches Kyungsoo in surprise. He doesn’t register the words right away, not until Jongin combs his soft brown locks with his hand, the piece of silver around his ring finger in sight. He wonders how he never noticed. Now he can’t stop looking at it.

He has questions. There were quite a lot of them to ask, but he can only think of telling him one thing in this moment.

“I don’t think any of those days sounded bad,” Kyungsoo finally says.

“They weren’t,” Jongin agrees with eyes glistening, “Except for the rest of the days that followed when she left.”

They stop in front of a random monument to take in the dark surroundings. The sun had finished setting then, the wind blowing colder than before.

Jongin says it so well, that when Kyungsoo looks at him an impassive grin shows up on his face, looking back at him as if the words he’d just said no longer had a hold on him, like it had been just another chapter of his own book.

“I think that’s enough history for today,” Jongin says.

Before Kyungsoo can say anything else, Jongin walks ahead of him to leave the cemetery, and he is left alone with thoughts about grief and what losing someone feels like.

 

 

Their second day is just as busy as their first.

They leave the hotel after nine and join a tour to the Glasgow School of Art to see the new building while the old is in restoration from a fire that took place two years ago. The tour includes a fifteen minute talk about how the buildings were constructed and a rushed exhibition of furniture. 

Kyungsoo thinks it’s interesting, and it was more than enough information to distract him from the past he learned from yesterday.

Jongin was the same person he was the last few times they’d met. Once in a while, he would talk to Kyungsoo casually about random stuff, his history forgotten, buried like the bodies in Necropolis.

Kyungsoo likes to think they were similar—like onions with layers. He wonders if he would be able to peel off more of Jongin’s layers. Was this the same feeling he had when he asked him about his own past? Were they both waiting to peel off layers they didn’t want to show?

After the tour, they take the closest train to Buchanan Street, strolling past high end shops and catching afternoon tea at the Willow Tea Rooms. Their White Dining Room is full of elegant high chairs and bright interior, with different homemade delicacies served on a 3-tiered stand, tea or coffee on the side.

They take turns in tasting pastries: Jongin grabs the buttered shortbread while Kyungsoo places a scone on his plate, both satisfied with their choices.

Kyungsoo scoops strawberry jam from a container with his knife, smearing it on his half-bitten scone when Jongin grows curious and asks, “Can I try some?”

He pauses, glancing at Jongin from under his lashes and placing the knife on his plate before he hands the scone from across the table and around the tier.

“Here.” Kyungsoo answers.

Some of the jam spills on one of his fingers, drooping from the scone. It’s sticky, staining Kyungsoo’s hand with strawberry red. He waits for Jongin to take the pastry.

Instead, Jongin holds his forearm, pulling him just as he leans forward and takes the scone to his mouth, the edges of his lips closing in on the tips of his fingers and painting his own lips with jam.

Kyungsoo doesn’t know what to do. He can’t see much from how the tier blocks his vision, but finds a space between the second and third level of the tier and catches Jongin staring back at him, biting slowly on the bread.

He pulls back in an instant, his insides turning rigid in panic. He looks at his hand to see what’s left of the scone, which isn’t much.

When Kyungsoo looks at Jongin, there’s a tight-lipped smile on his face, as if he was controlling himself not to burst out into fits of laughter.

Kyungsoo breaks first, laughing uncontrollably as he stares at the sad looking piece of bread. Jongin’s laugh follows like the second voice to a song, harmonizing with his own wave of chuckles. It feels like the ice had finally been broken.

In this short moment, history becomes irrelevant.

 

 

The night starts early with champagne from the tea room. Their schedule is empty for the rest of the day, but soon they agree to return to the West End when Jongin mentions a street where thrift shops and tiny pubs are located.

It’s a little past five in the afternoon once they set foot on Ashton Lane. They quickly find a bar and step inside, each ordering a pitcher of beer and swallowing them down before they stumble into another pub to start again. It turns into a cycle of bar hopping, with conversations between them growing louder and funnier.

By the time they make it to their seventh bar, they learn more and more things about each other, such as Jongin once wanting to be a dance instructor like his mom. At their eighth bar, Kyungsoo shares that his favorite color is gray, like the color of clouds when it starts to rain, or the color of stainless steel. Jongin asks him why he’s so specific, but earns a laugh for an answer.

They end up in the middle of the street somehow, lying with their backs against the cobblestone ground and staring up at fairy lights hanging above them.

They aren’t drunk, but their minds are a bit fuzzy. There’s not much people from the time they were there, but even if there were, they didn’t seem to pay attention.

If there is one thing that Kyungsoo likes about the silence that appears tonight, it’s one that is always comfortable. It just so happens that the quiet he finds pleasant and not deafening had always been with Jongin. He’s still trying to figure out why that is.

“So, I was thinking,” Jongin suddenly speaks, “That maybe it’s time to leave Scotland for now.”

“How soon?” Kyungsoo asks lazily, almost similar to a slur.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Jongin answers casually.

Kyungsoo continues to gaze up at the fairy lights, his blissed out face changing into something of mild confusion.

“Oh,” Kyungsoo says. “This is a bit surprising, considering how we’ve only been here for two days. I don’t want to sound so eager, but I thought we’d have more time to explore the city. Shouldn’t we be booking our flight by now? Are you even flying a plane? We just had more than two gallons of alcohol, for crying out loud.”

Jongin has the decency to laugh at his blabbering before he replies, “Take it easy. I wasn’t done talking. There’s actually something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”

He turns his head to lock eyes with Jongin’s bright ones.

“If I promised you the world right now, even just portions of it, would you come with me to see it?”

Kyungsoo thinks his head is spinning. “What?”

“Is that weird?” Jongin asks. “Should I have phrased it better?”

“No, I understand, but—”

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin says, his name drawling out from his mouth so comfortably. “If there is one place you could go back to, what’s the first thing that comes into your head?”

Strangely, Kyungsoo thinks of taxi cabs and the french pocketbook that he’d never taken out of his bag, with Jongin’s yellow umbrella. He thinks of the eiffel tower, where all of this began.

“Paris,” he answers. “I want to go back to Paris.”

Jongin smiles.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

Kyungsoo isn’t sure if what he heard is right.

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“Let’s just say that I’ve got train tickets that lead to two destinations. We can take a side trip to Amsterdam for a bit to rest, then hop into another train to Paris. _Paris is always a good idea_ , don’t you think?” Jongin says this so easily, like going out of his way to book tickets in advance for him and a stranger he wasn’t even sure would make it is as easy as buying tickets to a movie.

Kyungsoo can’t think straight with his head throbbing and his heart beating loud in his ears. It just doesn’t make sense to him, and the only thing he could do is ask a straightforward, “Why are you doing this?”

“I don’t know,” Jongin answers truthfully. “I just know that from the moment I met you, I knew I needed to do something to help you.”

“But why?” Kyungsoo asks again, “I haven’t done anything for you.”

Jongin pauses for a moment.

“Maybe I didn’t want to be too late, before someone walked away from me again.”

Kyungsoo had never—not even once—thought to be thankful for his life, or anything else for that matter. Maybe he should be, because if they hadn’t come to Glasgow, if they hadn’t watched the sunrise at Jeju, if he hadn’t stepped inside Jongin’s taxi cab in Paris, he wonders what kind of history would take place.

 

A M S T E R D A M , N E T H E R L A N D S

 

✈︎

 

The Eurostar makes two train changes to get to Amsterdam. As soon as they step out of the train from Glasgow Central, they take a ten-minute stride from London Euston to St. Pancreas to hop into the Thalys train enroute to Brussels.

It would have been a hassle if Kyungsoo traveled alone, especially taking into consideration the amount of people he had to bump into while finding their own way around the train stations. He internally hated the crowd, but with Jongin leading the way, he thinks it’s not half as bad.

Kyungsoo watches Jongin quickly fall asleep just as they settle inside a booth on opposite ends from each other. It’d been that way since they rode the last train; Jongin would either be reading a book or casually drifting into slumber, while Kyungsoo would silently watch him with his earphones attached to his ears and some indie folk music playing to the movement of the pilot’s steady breathing.

He discovers that he actually enjoys this—watching Jongin sleep. Every few minutes his eyes would flutter open just to see if they’ve finally reached their destination. Kyungsoo would shake his head with a brief smile, and he would always return it with an even softer one, his lazy eyes locked on his before resuming sleep and closing his eyes again.

In these brief moments, Kyungsoo indulges himself in the thought that maybe they were much more similar than he originally thought they were. Like onions with layers, Kyungsoo learned something new about Jongin day by day, like how he preferred sunny side up eggs over scrambled eggs for breakfast. Same as how Jongin had learned that Kyungsoo wore mismatched socks on a daily basis. Kyungsoo was a traveler who wanted to see the world, and Jongin flew planes, having seen most of it. Together they journeyed with tourists and locals through unexplored city gems. It was a reality they both shared.

But in these brief moments inside the train, they are left in their own state of realities: Kyungsoo mourning his dead biological parents, and Jongin grieving over a love lost.

Kyungsoo continues to watch Jongin sleep soundly, his head resting close to the window of the train and worries left behind in the world around him the same way Kyungsoo drowns reality out with the songs in his head.

He thinks it makes perfect sense, how in these moments of unperturbed silence, they did all things to escape from it. 

Alone, together.

 

 

The train speakers resound with an announcement of their arrival at _Amsterdam Centraal_. Kyungsoo and Jongin wake just in time to leave the train. Somewhere along the ride, Jongin had mentioned that his cousin, Junmyeon, was a local in the city and suggested that they rent a townhouse unit with airbnb, hooking them up with a place his friend owned. They make their way out of the train station and walk towards the designated address on Jongin’s message, the exhaustion from an eleven-hour train ride catching up to them the minute they make it inside the unit. 

What shakes them awake however, is the single shared bed in the center of the bedroom, something Junmyeon nor his friend ever mentioned over the phone. They stand frozen in silence, not really knowing what to think. The thought had never crossed their minds having stayed in separate rooms during their stay at Glasgow.

“Well,” Jongin trails off, placing his hand at the back of his neck, “There isn’t much we can do now, You can take the bed if it makes you uncomfortable, Kyungsoo. I can just sleep on the couch outside.”

“Oh, no. It’s fine, Jongin, I’ll take the couch.”

“No, really.”

 _”Really,”_ Kyungsoo insists. “I can take it.”

Jongin looks at him for a moment, accepting defeat with a small smile on his face.

“Thanks.”

Minutes pass. Despite their agreed arrangement, they fall asleep on the shared bed while unpacking. Kyungsoo stays half-awake and is aware of the way Jongin shifts a little too close to fill the space between them, a habit of his that he discovers when he’s in deep sleep.

Then slowly, slowly, Jongin starts to intertwine his fingers with his, the warmth of his hand enclosing his own sweaty palm.

 _Another habit_ , Kyungsoo thinks, one that creates a spark of electricity through Kyungsoo’s fingertips and through his bloodstream, somehow creeping its way to the nerves in his heart.

 

 

Junmyeon had a daytime canal tour planned for them today, so after sharing a loaf of bread for breakfast in the morning they hurriedly leave the townhouse to set out and meet him. Kyungsoo felt like he was walking inside a real life painting. The city is covered in crisp autumn leaves falling from trees—proof of just how quickly the seasons change. They walk alongside the bike lanes where they witness people cycling and stroll down the narrow streets in search for the docks.

The temperature is fairly cold, and Kyungsoo only managed to wear one layer of clothing with a navy trench coat on top. He thinks he underestimated the weather too much.

When he tries to come up with possible ways of keeping himself warm, he only finds himself secretly longing for Jongin’s gloved hand, with last night’s habits playing in his head. His own bare hands close into a fist, and a sudden warmth spreads on his cheeks like the tingle in the back of his neck and the strange somersaults in his stomach.

Jongin was oblivious to Kyungsoo’s heart speeding up, but he needs it to stop. He silently wonders if Jongin was aware of it, if he knew of his habits and the unfamiliar feelings it did to him.

He doesn’t realize that his question will soon be answered when Jongin suddenly speaks next to him.

“Were you able to sleep well last night?” Jongin asks. “I forgot to tell you that I moved a lot when I sleep.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t look him in the eye when he answers, focusing on the road straight ahead.

“I did.” He lies, “I move a lot too.”

“I’m a heavy sleeper, so I won’t be able to notice. I also forgot to warn you about some...habits I have. I tend to hold things with my hands when I’m asleep. Soojung used to tell me that I would sleep like an otter--”

Jongin’s words fall short, realizing how it’s the first time he’d ever said her name again, and how it was Kyungsoo’s first time to hear it.

 _“Soojung?”_ Kyungsoo repeats, then asks, “Was that her name?”

_The girl in your history?_

He sees Jongin’s face slightly change when their eyes meet, a short moment of despair flashing in his.

“Yeah.”

Jongin looks away, and that’s when the conversation ends. Kyungsoo doesn’t try to push any further.

They spot one of the boats docked to the side along the canals loading passengers. Finding Junmyeon was easy at this point—a Korean dressed in a black coat with a scarf around his neck walks the opposite way and waves excitedly as he heads toward their direction.

He wasn’t alone. Another man approaches in the same exact coat with a mustard turtleneck underneath, catching up to Junmyeon and taking his hand in his while they fall into step together and share gleeful glances.

Junmyeon pulls the pilot into a brotherly hug with a delighted sigh. “It’s so good to see you here, Jongin.”

“You too.” Jongin returns a smile, introducing Kyungsoo with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “This is Kyungsoo. I’m trying to show him around the city.”

Junmyeon’s features are softer, his complexion much fairer in contrast to Jongin’s tan skin. The shock on his face is quick to detect, eyes wide and looking into his own with a slow letter _‘o’_ forming in his mouth.

He shakes Kyungsoo’s hand and nods with a grin something akin to awe, implying something he didn’t understand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Kyungsoo,” Junmyeon repeats. “Welcome to Amsterdam.”

Within fifteen minutes, they are seated in the glass-enclosed boat, Junmyeon and Jongdae—Junmyeon’s partner—side by side, while Jongin and Kyungsoo sit in front of them. Over the next hour, they traverse through all of Amsterdam’s waterways including _Prinsengracht, Keizersgracht, Herengracht_ and _Jordaan_ , as well as pass many of the city’s primary monuments and historic buildings with canal houses in between.

The sun shines above them in the breezy afternoon, with all of the city enjoying its beaming presence. Kyungsoo realizes that his eyes had seen Jongin’s smiling face too much that he thinks about how he looks almost similar to the sun, its rays peeking once again through the glass window and painting his skin with a touch of gold.

Jongdae mentions that the boat stops at a dock in _Museumplein_ where the museums are located. Once they land, they begin their visit to the _Rijkmuseum_. The building’s architecture amazes Kyungsoo as its structure is separated into two squares, a tunnel as its central axis. They are welcomed inside the museum with minimalist interior and clean dark gray walls. From the display of paintings and artifacts, they discover a reading room with an extensive library of art history, wandering through the first floor and admiring people reading at the desks.

“I could practically live here,” Jongin quietly whispers to Kyungsoo, making him laugh and to which he believes.

Stepping inside the _Van Gogh Museum_ is like stepping into a different kind of universe. The vibrant use of watercolor and the impulsive brush strokes on canvases are evident in his abstract works. People would say his talent was self-destructive, that his other-worldly paintings expressed most of his real and deep reflections.

He barely notices that Junmyeon and Jongdae have already left his side and separated from him, his emotions overrunning his thoughts as he’s easily gripped by the paintings and self-portraits. He stops before one particular painting in which presents a vase of sunflowers, similar to the real ones he’d seen outside the museum, and it instantly becomes his favorite.

Soon Kyungsoo finds himself entering a dark narrow hallway leading to a walk through exhibit of Van Gogh’s famous paintings.

Then he sees Jongin, standing in the middle of the room with Van Gogh’s _Starry Night_ coming to life as it projects the walls and illuminates his body with light. He catches him laughing in amazement, his eyes filled with childlike wonder and enthusiasm crinkling like half moons.

There is something so lovely in things that are bright and beautiful. It is then that Kyungsoo realizes how Jongin’s smile is beginning to remind him of these things—of art and sunflowers.

And just like a painting, he can only stare at the masterpiece in front of him, his heart beating frantically in his chest too scared to touch him.

 

 

They meet the other pair outside the museum where they watch the couple take selfies close to the _iamsterdam_ letters and wait for them to finish, their stomachs already growling from hunger. Twenty minutes later, they eat lunch at a quaint restaurant and afterwards spend their afternoon peeking at tulips in the _Bloemenmarkt_.

The flower market is located in the Single Canal, floating on top of houseboats and barges, with stalls that show different plants and a variety of colors. One of the vendors try to offer Kyungsoo tulip bulbs but he declines politely, knowing that he wouldn’t know how to bring it safely back home. 

He continues to immerse himself in the beauty of the flowers surrounding him when the sound of a camera shutter quickly reaches his ears.

When he looks up, Jongin is smiling at him a few feet away with his camera in his hands.

“Jongin!”

“What?” Jongin asks teasingly, “I haven’t taken any photos since we were in Glasgow.

Kyungsoo wants to protest, but the glee on the pilot’s face stops him from doing so. Instead, he resigns to a defeated pout.

“I…” he drawls.

“Come on,” Jongin urges, “Let me take photos of you. Think of it as trading memories, me taking your photos in exchange for the ones that you took.”

The thought of Kyungsoo caught keeping photos of Jongin shuts him up quickly, giving the other the opportunity to snap another photo of his baffled expression. If the pilot were to keep memories of him, Kyungsoo hopes he doesn’t keep that one.

The minutes fly by and they call it a night after dinner at the _Damrak_ , the couple waving them goodbye and promising to meet them again tomorrow. By the time Kyungsoo and Jongin get home, they become too tired to think of anything else and get enough rest to prepare themselves for the next day that lies ahead of them.

Only Kyungsoo makes sure to sleep on the couch this time.

 

 

He wasn’t expecting for the morning to come along with a sore on his back.

Jongin cooks eggs on the kitchen of their townhouse unit while Kyungsoo sits in front of the counter. He tries to keep a straight face while chewing on a fruit and waiting for the ache on his back to wear out, but he wonders how Jongin can see right through him.

He sets the plate down in front of him while he stands opposite of him, using a fork to poke the scrambled egg and taking a biteful into his mouth. “You can still take the bed if you wanted to,” Jongin simply says.

He uses his other hand to grab his own fork and slice a piece of egg from the same plate. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to seem like I was complaining or anything like that.”

“If your back hurts, then it hurts,” Jongin says, crossing his arms over the table and leaning forward. “You shouldn’t be sorry for something like that. If you want, maybe we can try sharing the bed again. It seems like neither of us has a problem with it anyway.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t tell Jongin, but he does have a problem with it. A big one. It’s the exact reason why he didn’t mention anything, knowing that it could possibly lead to this proposition.

“I’m not a baby,” Kyungsoo defends, slightly annoyed at how Jongin seems to treat him like a child and makes him look out to be someone who is incapable of doing anything.

“And I’m not treating you like one,” Jongin answers back, “It’s called compromise.”

He shoves a big piece of egg into his mouth. “I can handle it.”

“Okay.”

Kyungsoo continues to chew on his egg—mouth full and cheeks blown—when he catches Jongin staring at him, unabashed and something like playful endearment in his eyes.

“Although has anyone told you that you looked like one?”

Kyungsoo doesn’t know what to do with him.

 

 

Junmyeon’s itinerary for the day includes exploring the markets at Amsterdam. They spend the morning wandering around the _Jourdaan_ , one of the city’s most famous neighbourhoods. The amount of tourists surrounding the area is expected as they walk along the narrow paths and flower-lined canals. It’s almost impossible to find their way in the maze-like streets, that sometimes Jongin would have to take Kyungsoo’s hand and pull him close. The heavy flow of foot traffic makes it easier for Kyungsoo to hide the blush that suddenly warms his cheeks and the tips of his fingers. They continue to pass the quaint shops and peek at the little art galleries before they spot a small restaurant, indulging themselves with _Bitterballen_ paired with beer.

In the afternoon, they cross the _Herengracht_ and _Kiezersgracht_ canals, arriving at _De Negen Straatjes_. They take the whole afternoon and stroll down the cobbled streets, admiring the vintage boutiques and specialty shops with less people around compared to others.

Jongin and Jongdae walk ahead of Kyungsoo, laughing together and taking photos of the thrift shops while Junmyeon watches next to him.

“Jongin looks really happy now,” Junmyeon speaks quietly. “Although maybe it’s because I haven’t seen him in a while. He should visit more often.”

“When was the last time you saw him?” Kyungsoo asks.

“A year ago,” he answers. “He was here around the same time, I think.”

“Wasn’t he happy then?”

Junmyeon takes a moment to glance at him, surprised by his question.

“Well, sure,” he ponders. “Look, don’t get me wrong, Kyungsoo. He must have been happy because I was there with him, but I remember a time when I’ve seen him much happier, like when Soojung was still by his side.”

Kyungsoo checks to see Jongin entering a vintage shop with Jongdae trailing behind him, before finding the courage to ask Junmyeon another question, curiosity growing more and more.

“Would you happen to know what happened to them?”

“You’re asking the wrong person,” Junmyeon tells him. “But as far as I know, no one does. He’s never told anyone.”

Kyungsoo feels a brief pang of guilt for trying to invade Jongin’s privacy like that.

“But it’s good now,” Junmyeon says, meeting his eyes, “that he has you.” 

Kyungsoo sees where this conversation is going, but whatever he and Jongin were doing wasn’t anything other than travelling the world.

“Oh, no. It’s not what you think. I’m just a friend from Seoul.” Kyungsoo denies.

Junmyeon looks at him for a moment.

“If you say so,” Junmyeon replies, “I guess the real question is… If you want to stay that way?”

Just when Kyungsoo is about to answer, a kid in a _Flash_ costume suddenly dashes right in front of them, running past them and into the street with a plastic pumpkin basket in his hand.

“What the—”

Since this morning, Kyungsoo had seen other kids and people dressed in costumes—Once as they were leaving the unit and another time at Jordaan. He barely remembers how he seems to have seen too many pumpkins and spider webs as decorations.

“Oh, hey, I almost forgot. If you and Jongin are interested, there’s a Halloween Parade assembling in Vondelpark later at eight. There’s music and costumes and everything. You guys can join us.”

“We’ll be there.”

Jongin appears next to Kyungsoo tugging his arm and pulling him away, leaving Jongdae with Junmyeon before he can protest. He leads him inside the same vintage shop he had entered just moments ago, and before he knows it they’re passing a section of old clothes only to stop at a tiny dresser full of things that look like makeup.

“Jongin, what are we doing here?” Kyungsoo asks.

“It’s too late to buy costumes,” Jongin says, “But I saw this and thought of another idea.”

He lightly dabs his finger on a palette, swirling it around as orange pigment sticks to his skin.

“I don’t think I’ll like this idea of yours,” Kyungsoo says.

Jongin raises his finger in the air and in front of him, smiling mischievously.

“Well, right now you won’t have a choice,” Jongin responds before pressing his tinged finger down to his cheek.

“Whoa, what are you doing?!” Kyungsoo asks, quickly stepping back from him and raising his arms.

Jongin grins at the orange dot on the side of his face. “I’m painting your face for the parade.”

“Jongin,” Kyungsoo groans, “You are not putting makeup on me.”

“You will travel with me all the way to Paris but will say no to a little color on your face? Do you really think I’m buying that?”

 _Of course not_ , Kyungsoo thinks, then watches as the pilot reaches over one more time to touch his face.

Jongin starts by painting his cheeks with orange, moving his fingertip in a circular motion to both sides of his face. Once it’s done, he pulls out a stool from under the dresser for him to sit on, then proceeds to choose another color. Jongin looks excitedly over the face paint, then pats his finger on a darker color and applies it to his nose.

Kyungsoo stays silent watching him all this time. He watches how Jongin’s face contorts from full concentration to childish excitement, how his eyes give Kyungsoo all the attention while his fingers delicately touch his face, leaving more than just autumn colors on his skin.

He shades his eyebrows and lips with brown, then uses a black pencil eyeliner to draw an outline on his eyebrows, eyes, nose, and lips, finishing off with lines as stitches.

Jongin spins the stool around for Kyungsoo to stare at his reflection.

“Congratulations,” Jongin tells him, “I’ve just turned you into a scarecrow.”

Kyungsoo is quite amazed by the end result. He didn’t think Jongin would be too serious about celebrating Halloween, but with how his makeup had turned out, he thinks maybe this isn’t such a bad idea after all. Kyungsoo turns to Jongin and gives him an approving smile.

“Crazy, right?” Jongin asks, hands clasped together in joy and mirroring the same excitement in Kyungsoo’s eyes. “Now it’s my turn.”

They switch positions—Jongin seated in front of the dresser and Kyungsoo standing in front of him. He looks up at him expectantly while Kyungsoo returns a confused look.

“You want me to paint on you?” Kyungsoo asks.

Jongin closes his eyes, giving him a smile and a nod. “I trust you, Kyungsoo.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t know why his words make his heart speed up, but it makes him genuinely happy.

He picks up the eyeliner, not really knowing what to do with it. He takes one step forward, leaning down until he reaches Jongin’s face level and presses it lightly to his face.

Kyungsoo is definitely not an expert on art, but he traces lines from the middle part of Jongin’s forehead to the bridge of his nose, drawing more lines over his lips then connecting them to the outlines he’d created on his face.

He draws on Jongin’s face for a good five minutes, then turns the stool to face the mirror and asks Jongin to open his eyes.

Jongin obeys, looking at his reflection with something between shock and astonishment quickly written on his face.

Half of Jongin’s face is left blank, while the other half is composed of thick lines that trace from his nose to his lips, going up from the side of his jaw and all the way to his forehead, forming small geometric shapes and tiny lines decorating the bottom of his eye. The lack of color makes the drawing standout, creating something almost similar to an abstract painting.

“Kyungsoo.”

“I know, I could have done better,” Kyungsoo shrugs, still leaning down with his face next to Jongin’s, shooting him a small casual smile through the mirror. “I really didn’t know what came over me.”

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin says, his tone demanding him to listen. “It’s perfect.”

He turns his head to the side just as Jongin does, eyes meeting and faces only inches away from each other.

Kyungsoo notices everything about Jongin, like the small strand of eyelash that had stuck below his eye, and the way his thick lips are slightly chapped. He stares into his eyes and faces an inner battle between listening to what his brain needs him to do and doing what his heart wants him to do.

But Jongin moves first—pulling him close and welcoming him in his arms which circle around his neck. Kyungsoo stands frozen, legs bent and body tilted forward at a weird angle with both hands stuck to his sides.

Jongin is warm and so _so_ close, unexpected like the weather and Kyungsoo’s heart that races _faster_ and _faster_ , fearing that it would explode any moment from now.

The fleeting moment comes and leaves when Jongin pulls away to look back into his face with a wide smile, a smile so bright that he can paint the whole town yellow.

 

 

Dusk arrives as soon as they find themselves passing through the _Red Light District_ —Junmyeon and Jongdae having already disappeared from their sights to prepare for the parade—while a range of tourists walk alongside them. They pass a repetition of restaurants, shops, and coffee shops with neon signages flashing at them as they wander through the night street. Walking through the area, Kyungsoo notices couples holding hands and even families walking down the canals. Kyungsoo had already seen most of what Amsterdam has to offer, and he didn’t want to pass up on this chance of seeing the district at least once. The atmosphere is intriguing. He can’t put his finger on it, but there’s an undeniable buzz lingering in the air that would best be described as something unspoken, one full of suspense and in the strangest way, a little bit of erotic.

Kyungsoo grows even more curious when he peers through the floor to ceiling doors, red lights framing the glass windows. There are women of all colors and sizes inside the windows, piquing their interests and greeting them as they pass.

“Do you want to visit a coffee shop?” Jongin asks next to him.

“Coffee?” Kyungsoo asks, confused. “I didn’t know they sold coffee in this place.”

Jongin tries to contain his laughter and keeps an admirable smile on his face. “Sure, that is if we’re talking about the same _coffee_.”

He still doesn’t understand, until they step inside a dimly lit establishment and sit in front of a table with a cylindrical glass pipe between them. He realizes that in Amsterdam, coffee didn’t exactly mean beans that grew from farms. Jongin calls out a waiter and exchanges a few words with him. Kyungsoo can’t hear him well from the loud reggae music blasting through the speakers, but he catches hearing something along the lines of _“Joints”_ and something _“Pre-rolled”_.

The waiter leaves and comes back with a small plate of two blunts, hollowed and filled with marijuana.

Kyungsoo watches Jongin take one and files it between his fingers. He asks the waiter to light the blunt, waiting for its end to finally flare up before letting out a long exhale just as the waiter begins to walk away. Thick smoke whizzes through the air and Kyungsoo already smells the earthy herb. He’s not sure if he wants to try it.

Jongin makes a face at him, head facing sideways as he blows smoke through his mouth. “Wow. This stuff is strong.”

Kyungsoo continues to watch in amazement and curiosity, noticing how the weed slowly takes effect on Jongin’s body. His eyes have turned lazy, staring at him with a sleazy smile on his face.

It’s amusing, but Kyungsoo feels guilty for letting him indulge on something like this alone. Jongin brought him here for a reason, and although he knew Jongin wouldn’t force him to do anything he didn’t want to do, maybe Jongin wants him to live in these moments, to experience these acts of impulse and bad decisions.

Kyungsoo takes the other blunt from the plate, trying to arrange it between his fingers just like how he remembers Jongin doing it. He looks at Jongin who is already calling the waiter and borrowing a lighter again. When the waiter walks away, he urges Kyungsoo to move closer to light the blunt.

Kyungsoo leans in, his shaky fingers raised close to his mouth with his joint stuck in between. Jongin holds his hand to keep it still, lighting the end of the stick and silently watching the fire flicker momentarily.

Kyungsoo doesn’t know if what he’s doing is correct but he inhales all too fast, taking too much of the smoke into his lungs with an unpreparedness that causes him to choke on his breath, coughing instantly as puffs of smoke escape his mouth. Jongin rubs his back soothingly as Kyungsoo settles down with a burning sensation left on his throat and a bitter taste on his tongue.

Moments later, Kyungsoo feels the hit—the music grows loud and clear in his ears along with other people’s bickering, while the pungent smell of weed turns stronger. He’s overwhelmed by the intensity of his senses heightened, with Jongin’s touches making him feel more light-headed than usual.

Kyungsoo suddenly laughs. He laughs and laughs over nothing, while Jongin joins him.

“This is insane,” Kyungsoo tells him.

“And you, maybe even more so. I can’t believe you did that. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen you so relaxed.”

“I haven’t had a good laugh in a while, maybe since my entire life,” Kyungsoo says truthfully. “This feels really, really good.”

“The weed helps,” Jongin comments. “Sometimes all we need is a little escape from life.”

Jongin begins to look at him differently. He has an elbow on top of the table with his free hand cupping his doodled face, blowing smoke from the blunt to the side while his eyes are beguiling, almost adoringly staring into his own.

“Why are looking at me like that?” Kyungsoo asks.

He balances the joint between two fingers and shakes his head, smiling.

“Nothing,” he says, “It’s just.. I wonder where you came from.”

He looks confusedly at him.

“You’re saying weird things right now,” Kyungsoo jokes, “I’ll take it as the plant talking.”

Jongin laughs softly, “I know what I’m saying. I think you know what I mean.”

“But I don’t. Not really,” Kyungsoo replies. “Would you mind elaborating it for me?”

“What I mean is,” Jongin says, “Sometimes, I wonder how the universe conspired in leading you to me. I’m still trying to believe how someone like you had come into my life like this.”

Kyungsoo’s eyes grow wide hearing what he said. 

“Like what, Jongin?” Kyungsoo asks, more serious this time.

“I don’t know,” he answers with an uncertainty in his voice, but continues on to say, “Just like this. Like this place could be beautiful again.”

Kyungsoo’s heart races.

He remembers Jongin on the way to Amsterdam, sleeping on the train and reading a book just so he could drift apart from this world. Being inside the coffee shop almost feels the same, except when Kyungsoo was with Jongin, he couldn’t tell the difference between the reality and escaping to a world of his own.

The parade had already begun once they arrive at Vondelpark, witnessing a showcase of people in a variety of halloween costumes with huge floats and inflatable puppets roaming around the area. They spot Junmyeon and Jongdae walking along the parade, laughing hysterically at their twinning Hershey’s chocolate costumes as they join them while the other pair passes them red paper cups filled with booze.

Time quickly permeates, and moments of walking, drinking, and dancing all but pass into a state of drunken bliss.

It’s eleven in the evening when locals start to pack up and leave the park, walking away giddily and intoxicated. Junmyeon is throwing Jongdae’s arm over his shoulder and apologizing profusely when he drunkenly yells at the top of his lungs for no reason. He collects Jongdae’s body and carries him in his arms before saying goodbye.

Kyungsoo runs as Jongin chases him down an empty street, slowing his steps when he makes it to the middle of the road and trying hard not to fall.

The buzz from their lingering highs are twice as strong as the time they drank in Scotland. Kyungsoo can still hear the music in his ears, spinning around in a sloppy twirl as he dances underneath the moonlight with eyes closed. He tries to hum a melody in the air, and when he opens his eyes he finds Jongin watching him with a lazy grin on his tired face.

The alcohol makes Kyungsoo courageous, lifting a finger up and gesturing for Jongin to dance along with him. He chuckles heartily and steps forward, bracing his arms around his waist while Kyungsoo drapes his own over his shoulders.

Together they sway in the silence, staring at each other as if nothing else mattered in this moment, trapped in their own little escape.

It’s when their bodies unknowingly move closer does Kyungsoo realize that he’s bordering uncharted territory. Jongin’s eyes are dark, filled with something indescribable as he looks down at him.

“You look absolutely ridiculous right now,” he teases playfully. If half of Jongin’s drawn face had already melted from the stickiness of the paint, Kyungsoo can only imagine the damage on his own face.

“Well, I can’t disagree with you on that,” Kyungsoo answers with a soft laugh. “I’m a complete mess.”

A sheen of sweat drips from his forehead all the way down to his jaw with Jongin lightly brushing it away. His hand stays where it is, tracing the line in his jaw to slowly cup his face.

“Yeah,” Jongin says, almost in a whisper, “Yeah, me too.”

Kyungsoo is even more of a mess now, his heart pounding in his chest from the proximity of their faces and the eyes that bore into his own. They’re alone on the dark street and he’s terrified.

Jongin looks down, down, _down_ on his lips and he can’t breathe. He tries to hide his panic but he’s clutching onto his shirt too tightly, wishing he can run away.

And just as they lean forward, headlights suddenly flash over their faces.

Kyungsoo releases the air he didn’t realize he’d been keeping while Jongin backs away. His eyes don’t give anything away, but he quietly takes his hand, leading him to the taxi and following him inside.

It’s silent inside. Kyungsoo’s mind is hazy and clouded with wrongful judgement, but because of what had happened just moments ago, he thinks that maybe, _just maybe_ , Jongin wanted something to happen.

It’s only then does Kyungsoo realize that things have changed since meeting Jongin, since learning his history and since he got high, and maybe he wanted the same thing just as much.

Then Kyungsoo is suddenly brave again, closing the gap between them and leaning over Jongin’s painted face.

Kyungsoo has never felt desire for anything or anyone, until his lips finally crash into his.

 

 

P A R I S , F R A N C E

 

✈︎

 

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Kyungsoo wakes up with his face planted into a pillow.

He’s hit with the sudden urge to puke, so he gets up on his feet and instantly runs for the bathroom. His hands and knees collapse on the tiled floor as he vomits on the toilet bowl, spilling his guts while his unruly hair sticks on the top of his forehead. He groans from the smell and how it reeks, a feeling of nausea flowing easily through his system.

He leans his head on the clean side of the bowl, trying to fully take in his surroundings.

And then he remembers.

Kyungsoo rises, taking slow steps back to the bedroom. Goosebumps run along his arms and sends chills to his bare skin, then notices how he’s only dressed in his underwear. He picks up a discarded sweater off the floor and wears the loose cotton fabric over his head, taking a seat on the chair in front of a small table and burying his face in his hands, head spinning.

_This wasn’t supposed to happen._

He wasn’t supposed to wake up on this part of the room, particularly on top of the bed. He wasn’t supposed to be sleeping there. He wasn’t even supposed to kiss him.

But all these things have already happened, with one thing leading to another, and Kyungsoo doesn’t quite know how to deal with it.

He finally notices Jongin not being there, but finds a note perched on the table next to a bottle of water.

 _Went out for a bit. I should be back by the time you wake up_ , it reads.

Kyungsoo shakes his head and tries to wipe out everything from his mind, thinking this must all just be a dream, but it only makes his head even more dizzy.

Coffee. Maybe coffee is what Kyungsoo needs.

But just as he hurries out of the bedroom, the door of the main room opens.

Jongin’s eyes quickly find Kyungsoo’s as soon as he steps inside. His footsteps are slow and deliberate. Cautious.

“Hi,” Jongin simply greets.

Kyungsoo’s chest tightens. He remains rigid in his place, and all his body parts can’t seem to function.

“Hi,” Kyungsoo mutters, eyes focused on the suddenly interesting ground, on his feet, and on his wobbly knees up to his—

To his naked legs.

When Kyungsoo looks up, Jongin’s looking at him with an unreadable face, specifically at the sweater that drapes just inches above his knees, the piece of clothing which he realizes doesn’t belong to him.

“Uh,” Kyungsoo starts to say, but Jongin promptly waves him off with a small smile.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jongin tells him, lifting another hand that carries a paper bag and places it on the kitchen counter. “I bought some aspirin for the headache. And some fruits.”

Jongin is suddenly making his way towards Kyungsoo, stopping just inches away from his face. 

Kyungsoo’s head reels, his blood running hot in his veins. He thinks he’s about to puke again. The air is thick, heavy with a tension he can’t explain.

And Kyungsoo waits, although he doesn’t exactly know what it is that he’s waiting for. Maybe it was to establish things, to confirm just what exactly it is they are doing.

But Jongin is looking at him differently, different from how he’d looked at him last night. It’s a look that’s friendly, the thrill and the desire no longer there but replaced with a hint of nervousness and hesitation. Maybe even confusion.

“I, uhm,” Jongin says, “I’m going to get ready.”

Jongin walks away to retreat into the bedroom. The door closes, leaving Kyungsoo with so many questions and so much want, wondering if he’d already ruined things before they even begun.

 

 

_Attention passengers, Train 0504 to Paris is now approaching. Please make your way to Platform Two. Do not leave your luggage unattended._

A three note-chime sounds on the loudspeaker as the huge train approaches the station. They are already there, saying their goodbyes with Junmyeon and Jongdae about to send them off. Jongdae brings Kyungsoo into a tight hug and squeezes Kyungsoo in his arms, while Junmyeon gives Jongin a pat on the back, asking him to take care.

“It was so lovely to meet you, Kyungsoo,” Jongdae says with a sweet smile on his face. “I hope you come back soon.”

“It was great to meet you too,” Kyungsoo says, glancing at Junmyeon who is looking back at him thoughtfully with unspoken words.

They climb on the train and stow their bags. Kyungsoo looks out the glass window to see Jongdae and Junmyeon waving at them, smiling at them one more time before the train departs.

He leans back against the seat, recalling the memories they’ve created in Amsterdam as the question Junmyeon had asked him stays with him.

Jongin is also staring out the window, his eyes expressionless but tranquil. Kyungsoo wonders about the things running through his head right now—if he was thinking about the same things in his own head like when his lips actually tasted like beer and a little bit like an antidote, or how he had traced the tiny moles on his back, those moles he wished he was the only person who saw them.

On their way to Paris, Kyungsoo starts to silently question his existence in Jongin’s life. He starts to think about his own purpose being in front of him on this train, because right now he is looking at him, and he realizes there are things that didn’t feel as important and uncertain as what he feels when he is with him.

When Kyungsoo thinks about Junmyeon’s question, it makes him terrified, because how is it possible to be friends with Jongin wanting to kiss him all the time?

And now, he had given him parts of him without knowing if he wanted it.

Kyungsoo speaks over the quiet.

“I think I owe you an apology, Jongin. About…what happened last night.”

Jongin’s head turns slowly to look at him.

“We were having a really good time and I was really drunk, but you looked so goddamn good, and I remember every single thing. I remember kissing you and it leading to other things. I think about it, how crazy and stupid I was, and now I think I’m really messing things up.”

Jongin pauses for a while.

Kyungsoo stares apprehensively at him, pondering about more things he wanted to apologize for but is interrupted by the sound of the pilot’s calm voice.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Saying sorry for things you shouldn’t apologize for.”

Kyungsoo suddenly can’t breathe.

“Jongin,” He tries to say, “I—“

“Can I ask you something?” Jongin asks, eyes brooding. “Have you ever done something in your life because you just felt like it? Just because you wanted to?”

He is beyond unprepared. He doesn’t know how to answer him without scaring him, without scaring himself.

“What if…” murmurs Kyungsoo, “What if I said in that moment, you were all that I wanted?”

There’s a frantic stirring in his gut and a flicker of something in the pilot’s eyes, his heart beating quick.

And then Jongin smiles all of a sudden, he smiles so bright that Kyungsoo might have seen more than just the sun, but even stars.

“Then maybe we need to spend more time living, _wanting_ each moment without any regrets.” Jongin tells him. “Kyungsoo, as soon as we make it to Paris, I want us to stop controlling things and feel as unapologetic about our feelings as possible. I need you to promise me that.”

Kyungsoo remembers what Baekhyun had told him in his balcony days before he left for Glasgow, before all of this ever happened. And this morning, he remembers getting a text message from his neighbour, hearing about how they’d made it to Amsterdam and was now leaving with Jongin for Paris.

 _Please tell me you’re keeping your word,_ Baekhyun had sent.

He still hasn’t replied to it, maybe because he was already too late.

“I’m not sure if I can keep any more promises,” Kyungsoo mutters lowly. “I might have already broken some of them.”

Jongin looks at him with a face full of wonder.

“What other promises have you broken?”

Moments quickly flash in Kyungsoo’s eyes: Jongin’s laugh that was like a drug he couldn’t quit. The warmth of his hand on the shared bed, and the way his feelings are starting to resemble autumn leaves, inevitably descending from the trees.

“Only the most important,” Kyungsoo says quietly. _Promising not to fall._

 

 

Kyungsoo wakes with a strain on his neck. He opens his eyes, fully aware that he’d fallen asleep leaning his head on the glass window. He doesn’t know what time it is or how many hours they have left inside the train, but out of all these things, he first notices how Jongin’s seat is empty.

Kyungsoo is about to panic when he realizes that a heavy weight is pressing down on his lap.

He looks to find that the pilot had transferred close to him, sleeping with his backpack as a makeshift pillow resting on top of him.

Jongin is so gentle, so peaceful in his sleep of escape. His skin is golden again as it shines against the natural sunlight. Kyungsoo notices his open palm and fingers curled, as if he was holding something invisible.

His hand is warm when he reaches for him, connecting his hand to the tiny gaps of his own fingers. 

Kyungsoo stares out the window, Jongin’s hand interlaced with his own, watching as the world goes by. He can already see the eiffel tower from afar—an indication that they were close. The idea of seeing Paris had always been exciting to him, except now there’s a sad smile dawning on his face and a fear rising in in his heart.

As soon as they approach Paris, Kyungsoo wonders if the things that were happening between them are the things that happened too soon or too late, whether this could be the start of a new beginning or the beginning of the ending.

Kyungsoo looks at their hands, and thinks about how they are unbelievably beautiful—how they quickly hold on to things and how sometimes they slowly let go. He wonders if one of them would be a choice he would soon have to make.

 

People are shuffling and pushing inside the train station, the wheels of suitcases crashing into their ankles as they find their way out of _Gare Du Nord_ and towards the taxi queue. When they finally reach the front of the queue, Kyungsoo watches Jongin greet the taxi driver in French, staring at him in amazement.

 _“Montmartre, s’il vous plait,”_ Jongin says, the words drawling out from his mouth so fluently that Kyungsoo can’t help but smile at him in adoration as they sit back in the seat and the driver pulls into the traffic.

 _Paris_ , Kyungsoo thinks as he winds down the window, _is finally here._

Kyungsoo starts his journey taking in the sound of the busy streets inside the taxi. He quickly catches a whiff of fresh bread and heavy smoke from outside as the wind swiftly blows in his hair. The taxi drives further into the city, coffee shops situated at every corner and people dressed stylishly, greeting each other and exchanging kisses on both sides of their cheeks. He continues to gaze out the window in awe, sometimes even trying to read the french road signs when they repeatedly come across them.

Jongin provides an address to the taxi driver, and soon after they are suddenly ascending uphill and pulling over along a street situating a cafe’. The driver takes the money and quickly drives away, leaving them on the pavement in front of _La Maison Rose_ , a lone coffee shop with pastel pink walls that stood out in the middle of other parisian cream colored houses.

Kyungsoo follows Jongin inside one of them—a house with half of its walls covered in ivy. The house shows nothing of luxury and looks like any other house, with clean white interior and comfortable furniture. He watches Jongin move briskly around the house, and he wonders how he walks around like he’d been here before, as if this was his own—

Suddenly, clarity hits him like a bucket of cool water that had splashed on his face.

Kyungsoo leaves his suitcase next to the couch and walks towards the fireplace, a set of photo frames standing atop and instantly catching his eyes. One of the frames contain a photo where Jongin is dressed in his pilot’s uniform and sitting inside a plane’s cockpit. His hair had been longer, and he was giving the camera a thumbs up. Another photo is Jongin on top of a mountain nearing the edge. He thinks the view looks exactly like the one they saw at Sunrise Peak.

Between those photos is a photo of a girl in front of the Botanical Gardens in Scotland, head turned away from the camera as her long chocolate hair flows down her back. Her hand is reaching for the hand that belonged to the person behind the camera, as if she were leading him towards their destination.

The hairs on the back of Kyungsoo’s neck stand along with his heartbeat speeding up.

He turns around and sees Jongin already next to him, gently folding the photo frame down with that particular photo.

Kyungsoo is about to speak when Jongin beats him to it.

“The guest room is upstairs on the left,” Jongin says. “Do you need help with your bag?”

He talks to him so formally, as if he’d forgotten that they weren’t on the same train together for three hours and Kyungsoo just hadn’t revealed that he was falling for him.

“I’ve got it, thanks,” Kyungsoo tells him, avoiding his eyes and walking away to pick up his luggage. He carries it with him as he walks up the stairs, but stops when he hears Jongin call for him.

“Hey,” Jongin says, offering a soft smile. “This probably isn’t what you expected, but I’d really like it if you would… feel at home. Okay?”

Kyungsoo can only return another smile before hurriedly ascending up the stairs and closing the door to the room, not knowing why he feels less like a guest and more like a trespasser that had stepped inside Jongin’s history and had stolen a little piece of someone else’s life.

 

 

Kyungsoo uses the next ten minutes to change into new clothes and to freshen up, while another twenty minutes is spent lying on the bed with a heavy feeling in his chest. It was a feeling he can’t put his finger on, and it makes him wonder if he had even made the right decision to be here.

But he had travelled with Jongin all the way to Paris, and even if he couldn’t make sense of things right now, it doesn’t mean that he needed it to.

He leaves the room and walks down the stairs to meet Jongin below in his set of changed clothes—a black turtleneck hugs his slender body and is topped with a brown paneled aviator jacket, faded denim skinny jeans and black leather dress shoes to match.

Jongin was a stunning host, and Kyungsoo feels all the more like a guest in his household and so out of his league.

“Ready?” Jongin asks, smiling and offering his hand.

Kyungsoo’s heart accelerates in such a ridiculous speed, because he’s never seen someone so pleased to see him. He takes it as a soft laugh escapes him. Kyungsoo was never ready—for Jongin or for Paris—yet something inside of him tells him maybe he had always been a little ready for his heart to get lost in the thrill of uncertainty.

“Take me to Paris,” Kyungsoo says with a smile.

 

 

Kyungsoo’s arm tightens around Jongin’s waist, his excited screams muffled through his helmet as the pilot’s vespa whizzes hurriedly off into the afternoon and along the parisian streets. Jongin takes Kyungsoo to different Paris sights all at once: from _Sacré-Cœur_ , they ride nonstop through pathways and backstreets heading toward the _Louvre_. Kyungsoo’s heart beats quick over the loud engine as they pass along _Pont de la Concorde_ and take a left on _Quai des Tuileries_ , weaving through cars and driving around Paris. They speed over another bridge and pass the cathedral of _Notre Dame_ , then slow down into a path and finally pull over near a motorcycle sign.

Kyungsoo pulls off his helmet, hair unruly and out of breath as he recovers from the bike ride. He thinks he’s starting to feel lightheaded from all the adrenaline rush.

But the _Eiffel Tower_ stands a few meters above them, soaring with a great finesse and truly reminiscent of Kyungsoo’s first visit. _Paris is indeed beautiful_ , Kyungsoo thinks, loosening his hold on Jongin’s waist and slumping against his back with a deep sigh of astonishment.

Jongin laughs as he pulls off his own helmet and turns back to look at Kyungsoo, resting a hand on his trembling knee.

“I don’t think we can go up right now,” Jongin tells him, “The queue is probably still long by this time. Should we go back some other time?”

Kyungsoo hums excitedly as he quickly sits in position, already wearing the helmet over his face.

“Again!” Kyungsoo squeals.

Jongin chuckles and starts the engine again as Kyungsoo wraps his arms around him, screeching in delight as soon as they drive back to Montmartre.

 

 

They park somewhere close to the _Abbesses_ metro station, and from there they start to walk, with Jongin leading him around the corner of the station and into a tiny garden. In the center of the garden is a flat surface, covered with a wall of tiles with broken heart pieces scattered and words written on each space. Kyungsoo looks closer, reading as much as he can but not quite understanding most of them.

“They call this _Le mur des je t’aime_ ,” Jongin informs him, ”They all mean the same thing.”

Kyungsoo thinks there must be around two hundred different languages written, only recognizing the three words in their own language, in english and even in french when he sees them.  
_I love you._

 _Those three words_ , Kyungsoo asks himself. _What do they really mean?_

He’s witnessed love so many times, like how Junmyeon and Jongdae sit next to each other on the canal boat in Amsterdam, arms linking together and sharing looks with warm affection in their eyes. Like Chanyeol whispering into Baekhyun’s ear over loud laughter at the bonfire in Jeju.

It’s quite ironic how Kyungsoo, standing before the _Wall of Love_ inside the City of Romance, has seen many different loves except his own, not knowing what it felt like or what it meant to him.

But standing next to him is also Jongin, slowly bringing meaning into the word and into his life. And then he realizes that maybe love meant being comfortable in their silence, being comfortable in saying things he can never tell anyone else. Maybe love was between two isolated souls, brought together in a strange city like this. Maybe love was crossing rivers and flying skies to get here.

And maybe, Kyungsoo thinks as Jongin takes closer steps—inches away from the offbeat of his heart—he thinks that maybe love was being horribly straightforward.

“I think I love you,” Kyungsoo says all in one breath, the words racing out of his lips like the thought of loving and losing him and both altogether terrified him. As if he had been longing to say them from the first time they met, from the moment the pilot smiled at him at the airport.

Jongin brushes a few of strands of hair away from Kyungsoo’s face and tucks them in his ear, then right after that slowly brings his hand to his cheek, swiping the surface of his soft skin with his thumb.

He’s glowing, and Kyungsoo starts to notice that he can see his reflection through his brown irises.

“I think,” Jongin says in almost a whisper, his face leaning close until Kyungsoo can stare at his lips, speaking just before they seal the gap left between them in a yearning kiss. “That maybe some promises are made to be broken.”

 

 

And so on the next day they go wherever Paris takes them—they take on the museums, parks, and the monuments, driving freely through the parisian roads in Jongin’s green vespa and stealing kisses in every beautiful place. In the span of two days, they collect memories along the _Champs-Elysees_ and beneath _Arc de Triomphe_ , taste every flavor of the macarons at _Laduree_ , try ice skating at Hotel de Ville. They sit in a corner of a bookstore, reading poems and stories together before they’re kissing again, hands wandering around their bodies, discovering parts of them and unraveling their mysteries.

By the late afternoon, they are in the ninth arrondissement finding their way up a large department store called _Printemps_. As soon as they reach the terrace, they are rewarded with the most exquisite of views: a golden view of the sun setting by the horizon and illuminating the parisian rooftops, with Sacre-Coeur sitting atop Montmartre on one side and the Eiffel tower standing beautifully on the other.

Kyungsoo thinks that some days are about falling in love with cities like Paris, and the way it glows above the sunset. Some days are about falling in love with things like art, like paintings on the wall or fairy lights dancing in the night sky.

These days are about falling in love with people, falling in love with Jongin who is casually leaning his arms over the ledge, smiling and holding the universe together.

Kyungsoo couldn’t understand the way he loved him, as if it was the most natural thing to do. It was so, _so_ easy to love Jongin when he’s touched parts of him other than his body. More importantly, he’s touched his soul, something he didn’t think anyone would know how to love.

And yet, Kyungsoo still thinks this is a dream, almost something that’s too good to be true. Their connection is extraordinary and everything is happening so fast that his heart is still trying to catch up to his feelings. Once in a while he would still see Jongin with that look in his eyes, like he was locked up in this little world of his.

Kyungsoo was still uncertain about most things—when they would leave Paris and where they would go from there. But right now, as Jongin looks back at him with the loveliest of smiles, Kyungsoo thinks it’s enough to live in a dream like this.

 

 

It’s a little after eight in the evening when they travel to the heart of Pigalle. They step inside _Le Carmen_ , a cocktail bar set inside a mansion with high painted ceilings and cozy furniture, its unparalleled structure decorated with neo classical columns and statues as glittered chandeliers create a dimly lit setting inside the room. They take a seat in one of the red velvet sofas and observe couples inside their apartment-like rooms. Jongin would whisper in Kyungsoo’s ear and make up potential conversations the couples are having, and he would laugh so hard without other people hearing.

Jongin greets one of the bartenders from afar, waving at him as if they’ve known each other a long time and he hasn’t seen him in a while. He doesn’t mention who it is, but they continue to enjoy their glasses of wine, with Jongin’s hand over his knee and Kyungsoo feeling slightly woozy from both the wine and the pilot. Jazz music had been playing since they entered the room, but suddenly fades out when a small group of three make their way to the center. Two of them are holding a guitar and a saxophone while another sits behind the piano that was already there. A woman arrives to the stage, smiling politely at the crowd as her dark brown hair falls past her shoulders and her blue sequinned dress sparkles in the dim light.

They enjoy a twenty-minute set of live jazz songs, filtering the air with sounds of the saxophone and piano along with the guitar and the singer’s bluesy voice. No words have been exchanged since then, just brief smiles and present touches as they listen to the music.

The singer starts to speak in french, with waiters passing small baskets around.

“They’re asking for song requests,” Jongin tells Kyungsoo.

As soon as a basket is passed at their direction, Kyungsoo picks up a piece of tissue and takes a pen from the basket, quickly thinking of a song from the top of his head, then writing it down on the tissue before he hands it back to the waiter.

Jongin leans back against the sofa and wraps an arm around Kyungsoo’s shoulder as he asks, “What song did you request?”

“You’ll see,” Kyungsoo smiles. “It’s the first song that came to mind.”

Just then, a familiar tune starts to play. It was one that Kyungsoo had always associated to his travels, one that he’d listened to on his ipod more often than his other songs, and hearing the singer’s voice makes him sing along to the words.

_Come away with me in the night_  
Come away with me  
And I will write you a song 

Kyungsoo feels Jongin’s arm tense up. When he turns to see his face, his eyes look suddenly detached.

“Jongin?” Kyungsoo asks over the music, “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Jongin answers briefly, then meets his eyes. “Can we go now? I don’t want to hear this anymore.”

Kyungsoo blinks. “But Jongin—”

“Stay here, then,” Jongin tells him, pulling away and standing up to leave. “Just follow right after.”

And as the song continues, Jongin makes his way out of the bar, and Kyungsoo is left with no choice but to trail after him.

 

 

Kyungsoo doesn’t remember the night outside being this cold. His hands find their way into the pockets of his winter coat as he walks along the street while cars pass them by. He blows air out of his breath and rubs his hands over both of his arms to create friction. It’s cold, and he wonders if he was the only one who felt it. Jongin walks sternly a few feet ahead of him, his hands curled tight into a fist.

Kyungsoo didn’t know what happened to Jongin at the bar and how it lead to a quick and unexpected turn of events. His outburst was something he didn’t see coming, but then he realizes that Jongin had always been unpredictable. It bothers him how until this point there were things he still didn’t know about him the same way he knew most things about himself. He was like a book sometimes, and his back was like a spine that carried more stories than he told. And just like a book, there was a chapter he didn’t read out loud, one that Kyungsoo needed to know.

He catches up to Jongin, slowing down his pace as soon as he matches the pilot’s steps.

“Please talk to me,” Kyungsoo says, “What happened back there, Jongin?”

“Nothing.” He replies in a curt voice, eyes staring ahead into the path.

“It didn’t seem that way at the bar. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be running away.”

Jongin doesn’t answer Kyungsoo. He tries to avoid him and speeds up, but the other suddenly blocks his way and brings his hands to his arms, halting him.

“Just talk to me. Please. I want to help you as much as you helped me.” He pleads.

“You don’t need to return the favor,” Jongin says bitterly. “I can handle myself just fine.”

“Jongin—“

“That song,” He says, staring at him with eyes that start to glisten. “Was it you? Did you choose that song?”

Kyungsoo’s hands slip from his arms, returning to the inside of his pockets. He doesn’t know what else he could say other than the truth.

“Yes,” Kyungsoo answers softly, so soft but enough for him to hear.

And then Jongin is laughing. His laugh is so empty and so sad, and his eyes brim with sudden tears.

“What a coincidence,” He says, shakily. “What a _fucking_ coincidence.”

The air is cold and Kyungsoo is freezing.

 _This wasn't Jongin_ , Kyungsoo thinks. This wasn't the way he talked, or the way he looked at him like he was made of stone. But maybe this is who Jongin really is, his outer layers slowly coming off and his history revealing itself before him.

“Tell me about her, Jongin,” Kyungsoo says quietly, “Tell me.”

He pauses for a moment, silent, except for the cars that still pass them by.

“I thought I saw her,” Jongin tells him, “At the bar. Kyungsoo, I thought she was singing that same song she sang when I first met her.”

Kyungsoo’s stomach flips, and he thinks he’s going to be sick. The look on Jongin’s face is distant, and he tries to pull him back to this world afraid that he would lose him.

“But it wasn’t, Jongin. It wasn’t her. How long has it been since she left? Months? Years? You have to realize that she might not come back.”

Shock comes to Jongin’s face because of Kyungsoo’s words. He looks at him now, eyes instantly wide with anger.

“Does it even matter?” Jongin asks with his voice raised, “You can’t… God, Kyungsoo. There are some parts of history you can’t throw away no matter how long it’s been…You don’t understand. You weren’t there when she walked away. You weren’t there when I loved her.”

“But I’m here now!” He snaps, ”She left you, Jongin! And I’m right _fucking_ here. Don’t think that I can’t see the way you look at me sometimes—how your eyes are looking at me but are lost thinking of someone else. Someplace else. It drives me crazy how much I think you’re so close and so far away at the same time, but here I am right in front of you, loving you just the same. Maybe even more.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t realize he’s crying, tears suddenly falling from his eyes.

“Sometimes I don’t know what I’m doing here anymore, Jongin,” His voice starts to shake, “What exactly am I to you? An escape route? A backup plan? _Her fucking replacement?_ ”

The air is so cold, but the anger in their veins and in their words are burning the world they created together.

Jongin’s face darkens, jaw clenching.

“One thing you should know,” Jongin says in finality, “is that you can never replace her. You’ll never be her.”

Kyungsoo is struck with a hard blow, eyes showing both surprise and desolate realization. There is nothing else left for him to say. Jongin turns away, walking solemnly to a taxi cab parked in the side of the street with Kyungsoo only watching him, wishing he’d offer to still share a ride with him.

But as Jongin drives away and the taxi light turns red, he wishes he’d taken it as a warning sign, from when he first hopped inside his cab.

 

 

Kyungsoo is thankful that Jongin still kept the door unlocked for him to enter the house. His eyes are dry from his tears and his body tires from the long cab ride. He doesn’t bother switching on the lights but silently makes his way up the flight of stairs instead, steps heavy like the weight of his chest. As soon as he makes it to the top, he sneaks a glance at Jongin’s bedroom door and notices how it’s left slightly open.

He takes tentative steps in front of it, thinking twice if he should go in to check on Jongin. He gently pushes the door forward so it doesn’t make a sound. The room is dark, but he can see Jongin’s silhouette on top of the bed, already asleep. He walks further inside until he’s standing next to the bed, then sits on the edge. He finds his hand easily, slowly taking it in his own and bringing it to his lips with a soft kiss before placing it back down.

Jongin continues to dream soundly, but his face shows uneasiness, eyes closed shut and seemingly restless. Kyungsoo has never seen him sleep like this.

And then a hand reaches for him along with a voice, strained and painfully broken.

 _Soo_.

Kyungsoo pauses. The syllable of his name has never sounded so different in his ears, and it is only when Jongin’s grasp on his wrist turns tighter and his voice breaks into another cry of plead does Kyungsoo realize why.

_Soojung…Please don’t leave me._

And all so suddenly, Kyungsoo is just a stranger in another’s home, surrounded in all his secrets.

 

 

He’s already gone when Kyungsoo wakes up half past one.

He’d climbed out of bed with the hefty feeling in his chest still present and Jongin somewhere outside with his green vespa, an indication that tells him he’ll most likely be doing stuff alone today. Kyungsoo heaves a sigh as he shrugs on a coat and looks out from the window, listening to the unfamiliar street sounds of Paris below as people are passing by the neighbourhood. Kyungsoo thinks it’s better than the loud silence that creeps inside the guest room.

Kyungsoo walks the streets of what he thinks is most of Montmartre, with nothing else but Jongin’s yellow umbrella in his hand. He aimlessly strolls down the narrow streets, meandering through a series of colourful cafes and paintings, then sitting alone outside the pink house for both late breakfast and lunch. He continues discovering Montmartre, stumbling upon secret sidestreets that lead to lovely sights of windmills, of purple and teal apartments, and soon finds himself at the bottom of the hill where he meets the infamous _Moulin Rouge_. As Kyungsoo walks back up the hill and thinks back on the places he’d been to, he realizes that being lost in a city of strangers does not give him the same feeling like it used to. Something is missing, Kyungsoo thinks, like his right arm had been chopped off and he was just starting to learn how to write with his left hand. He’d spent so much time with Jongin that without his presence, he’d forgotten how to feel perfectly lonely.

Kyungsoo reaches a corner path with steps that lead to _Sacré-Cœur Basilica_. Just before he proceeds to head up, a familiar green vespa parked along the sidewalk catches his eye.

Jongin is sitting on a center bench on the crest of the hill. Kyungsoo takes the empty space next to him, silently gazing over the same Paris view. They stay that way for what feels like an eternity, watching the world move around them while they come at a standstill. Kyungsoo still does not understand how it came to this point, how the silence that was once so easy had turned into a silence that speaks volumes of harsh realities.

The midafternoon sun gleams in the sky above them, and Kyungsoo remembers how the sun used to be in Jongin’s smile.

But that smile seems so faraway now along with Jongin’s distant gaze, and what’s left of his light had already consumed so much of this world that it destroyed homes.

Kyungsoo takes the umbrella standing next to him, extending it open with his hands to raise it between them and over their heads. Jongin reacts slowly, contemplating the shade before meeting his eyes in confusion.

“There’s no rain,” Jongin says.

Kyungsoo tries to offer a smile, but his heart breaks with just the sound of his voice.

“It doesn’t have to rain to protect people from getting hurt,” Kyungsoo answers, “Even the sunniest days can burn you.”

The words that come out of his mouth surprise him, but his face tries to return just a little smile. Jongin brings a hand over his own, still holding the umbrella. He wants to say something, Kyungsoo knows it from the way his mouth struggles to form words, and Kyungsoo tries to help him.

“Last night was rough. We’ve said very painful things, and when someone says you hurt them, you don’t get to decide if you didn’t,” Kyungsoo tells him. “But someone had once told me to become unapologetic about how we feel. So, I’m going to be braver than usual today, okay?”

Jongin is quiet, eyes focused on the Paris view again, but he nods his head just to let him know he is listening. Kyungsoo pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before he pushes the words out of his mouth.

“You promised the world, Jongin. You offered it to me so willingly, but I’ve seen so little of this big earth that I wasn’t sure it was possible. I took your offer anyway. I took it, not really knowing what I was doing. It was on impulse, but I just needed to get away from my life and shuffle my surroundings a bit. My heart longed to be lost. But little did I know that I was waking up in strange cities with someone who had already found it.”

Kyungsoo sees Jongin tense up at his last sentence, but he to continues to speak as if there wasn’t much time and holds onto the umbrella.

“You were keeping your promise. I know that. You promised the world, Jongin. You showed me a world with you in it. And now I—” Kyungsoo chokes back tears, “I can’t imagine living in this place without you.”

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin calls him, pleading with glossy eyes lips quivering.

“But you won’t let me reach you. You’re so far in your head, and you look at the sky with so much of your own longing. Every time I try to knock on your door, you just stare back at me and go right back inside, leaving me behind. I’m not even mad. I’m sad that I can’t help but think about how I’m just a question you would never answer. The least you could give me is the truth.”

_Tell me I’m not an honest mistake._

He looks so devastated now, and Kyungsoo watched him helplessly. Jongin’s hand remains on his own, pushing the umbrella towards him so it shields his whole body and before his hand slips away.

“I wanted it to be you,” Jongin replies quietly, “Kyungsoo, you don’t know how much I wanted it to be you.”

Kyungsoo’s heartbeat is loud in his ears as both of his hands grip tight onto the umbrella.

“I just woke up one morning, and she was gone, you know?” Jongin explains, “She disappeared without saying goodbye, and until now I still catch myself wondering what went wrong. People say others don’t know what they have until it’s gone, but I’ve always known, Kyungsoo. She was everything I ever wanted.”

Jongin’s looks so fragile. Kyungsoo continues to watch him as he takes a deep long breath, trying to control more tears from falling.

“Yet maybe it was my fault. One year of marriage with her was beautiful, but it reached a point where I was always leaving, flying off to different cities while she sang in bars and waited for me to come home. She never complained, maybe because she wanted me to be happy, and I was thankful. Things changed when we went out for dinner once. I couldn’t remember exactly what we were arguing about, but as soon as she stood up and turned her back on me, I saw it—the blood on her dress and on her legs.”

Kyungsoo’s eyes go wide.

“I don’t know how we made it so fast to the hospital, Kyungsoo,” Jongin breathes harshly, as if his lungs were shattering inside him and he was losing air, “But it was still too late.”

“Jongin, I—”

“The baby was seven weeks old,” Jongin says in a broken whisper, “But they couldn’t find the heartbeat.”

 _Don’t be late._ Kyungsoo remembers the note. His tears are uncontrollable by then, and Jongin was crumbling in front of him. He drops the umbrella from his hands to take Jongin’s shaky ones.

“I could never forget the look in her eyes that night. They were so empty, like she was only made of my absences. I didn’t think I would lose her,” Jongin summons a smile then, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, “Until I did.”

Jongin was still on his own now, carrying the world around him along with a guilt in his heart. All his layers are gone, but he’d been wearing a mask for so long that as time had gone by, he’d torn off his own skin.

“Maybe this was my karma—no matter how much I fall in love with someone, I will never love someone as much as I loved her.”

Kyungsoo uses his hands to cradle Jongin’s face, lifting it to face him.

“You can’t blame yourself for everything,” Kyungsoo tells him. “This place could be beautiful again, Jongin. _I can make this place beautiful again_.”

It is when Jongin gazes into his eyes, mouth forming into another detached smile, does Kyungsoo realize just how unfair it was to look at a person and see their love slowly slip away from your grasp.

“I’d love to be with you,” Jongin says softly. “I just wish we had a chance.”

 

 

They take comfort in the silence above the city, standing on top of the Eiffel Tower at night.

As they look over the lighted skylines, Kyungsoo revisits his old feelings. It flashes through his head in moments again: Kyungsoo chasing the sun at Jeju Island, crossing paths at Shibuya station. Glasgow under the fairy lights, and Halloween at Amsterdam.

He remembers stargazing with Baekhyun on his apartment balcony.

He remembers Miyoung and Sungsoo, and the money his biological parents had kept under his name.

And then he remembers Paris, and Jongin inside the taxi cab.

The said man is looking over the city with a certain kind of calmness on his face, as if he’s finally gained his peace of mind. Kyungsoo realizes that they are no longer at the beginning, but have made it to the middle part which would be most of it.

It hits him all at once—pent-up emotions of happiness, melancholy, anger, and grief—weighing heavily over his soul that it could kill him.

At the same time he feels connected to the world somehow, alive in his own skin. He feels the wind in his hair and the ground beneath his feet. He’s breathing with the air in his lungs.

And then he screams.

Jongin watches Kyungsoo shout into the atmosphere. He screams but no one hears except him. He screams because he’s in Paris. Paris is so, _so_ beautiful, and yet everything hurts. All the love left in him roars loud over the city, not knowing where else to place it.

Seconds pass before another voice joins him—Jongin’s broken cry spilling out into the void like a bolt of thunder.

They become two lost souls again—screaming for help, for love and loss—finding an empty space to fill with their loneliness.

Then Kyungsoo catches Jongin grinning. His laugh is soft while his eyes glisten in the night. He looks so lovely, like he belonged with the sky and his eyes mirror the oceans. Kyungsoo thinks for a moment that maybe they were destined to meet, but not destined to be together.

So he will let things go. The way Jongin kissed him, the way he held his hand. He will leave cities and homes, he will travel the world all over again—make deeper connections. He will leave because their feelings sunk deep into the heart, and loneliness is the only way they could find it again.

Kyungsoo will still keep Jongin’s postcard and his yellow umbrella. He thinks he will miss him most when he is high, or when he listens to that one song in his ipod.

And Jongin will continue to fly planes. He will walk away from him, leaving him with nothing but the memories they shared together. But Kyungsoo will continue to love him, until a place is just another place and he no longer tastes him without tasting blood in his mouth. Until love is just another word again and not the name of the storm in his heart.

 

 

~fin~

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many people to thank, and so many things to improve, but nevertheless, I am grateful for everything in this world <3


End file.
